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THE  LIBRARY  OF  THE 

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NORTH  CAROLINA 


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THE 

RED  BOOK  OF  APPLN: 

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Storg  of  tl)£  fttt&trU  2lg£0: 

WITH 

OTHER     HERMETIC     STORIES, 

AND 

ALLEGORICAL  EAIRY  TALES. 


WITH 

INTERPRETATIONS 

BY   THE   AUTHOR   OF 

'alchemy  and  the  alchemists  ; "    "  swedenborg  a  HEEMETIC 

PHILOSOPHEE  ;  "    AND    "  CHEIST   THE   SPIRIT." 

I 


NEW  YORK: 
PUBLISHED    BY    JAMES    MILLER, 

(SUCCESSOR    TO    C.    S.    FRANCIS    &    CO.) 

522     BROADWAY. 

1863. 


-* 


Entered,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1863,  by 

JAMES    MILLEE, 

In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  United  States  for  the 

Southern  District  of  New  York. 


JOHN  F.  TROW, 

PBINTKR,  STEREOTYPER,    AND    ELECTROTYPKB, 

50  Greene  Street,  New  York. 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 

Prefatory  Remarks, 5 

Story  of  the  Red  Book,      ....  25 

Explanatory  Notes, 31 

The  Six  Swans, 61 

Interpretation  of,  App.,       .         .         .         .  153 

The  White  Dove, 81 

Interpretation  of,  App.,       .         .         .         .165 

DUMMLING    AND    THE    TOAD,        .  .  .  .  91 

Interpretation  of,  App.,       .         .         .         .175 

The  Fox's  Brush, 103 

Interpretation  of,  App.,       ....  183 

Appendix  (Preface), 129 

The  Flail  from  the  Clouds,  ....  134 

The  Hedgehog  and  the  Hare,     .        .        .  141 

The  Story  of  Faithful  John,          .        .        .  203 

Interpretation  of, 229 

The  Goose-Girl  at  the  Well,  with  Notes,     .  263 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2012  with  funding  from 

University  of  North  Carolina  at  Chapel  Hill 


http://archive.org/details/redbookofappinstOOhitc 


A  few  words  upon  recent  publications  of 
Fairy,  and  other  Mystical  Tales  and  Tra- 
ditions :  with  Explanatory  Notes  upon  a 
Story  in  CampbelVs  Collection  of  West  High- 
land Stories. 


-# 


PKEFATOKY  REMARKS. 

"Within  a  few  years  past  many  volumes 
have  been  published  in  England  and  on  the 
European  continent,  under  the  titles  of  Fairy 
Tales,  Nursery  Tales,  Popular  Tales,  &c, 
embracing  stories  of  all  kinds,  many  of  them 
preserved  by  tradition,  handed  down  in  differ- 
ent countries  from  unknown  sources.  We 
have  Keightley's  Fairy  Mythology  ;  Thorpe's 
Yule-Stories,  and  his  Northern  Mythology  ; 
Campbell's  Popular  Tales  of  the  West  High- 
lands, and  Dasent's  Popular  Tales  of  the 
Norsemen,  &c.  :  then  we  have  Fairy  Tales 
from  all  Nations  by  Montalba ;  Halliwell's 
Popular  Rhymes  and  Nursery  Tales  ;  Taylor's 


6         Prefatory  Remarks. 

edition  of  the  Fairy  King  (translated  from  the 
German)^  and  a  valuable  volume  of  translations 
from  Grrimm's  Popular  German  Tales,  &c. 

In  several  of  these  volumes  the  editors 
warmly  congratulate  themselves  that  they  do 
not  feel  called  upon,  in  the  present  state  of 
public  feeling  and  opinion  with  respect  to 
such  Tales,  to  apologize  for  their  publication, 
alleging  that,  nowadays,  grown  children  are 
taking  a  profound  interest  in  them.  They 
even  affirm  that  wise  men  are  discovering 
hidden  treasures,  concealed  wisdom,  in  many 
of  these  marvellous  stories  about  giants  ;  and 
about  kings  and  queens,  with  (usually)  three 
sons  or  three  daughters,  the  interest  of  the 
stories  commonly  turning,  like  that  of  the 
story  of  Cupid  and  Psyche,  upon  the  youngest 
child. 


# 

Prefatory  Remarks.         1 

A  few  years  ago  the  disposition  to  seek  for 
hidden  meanings  in  Popular  Nursery  Tales 
was,  no  doubt,  carried  to  excess  ;  and,  as 
might  have  been  expected,  the  disposition  fell 
under  the  lash  of  a  class  of  smart  writers, 
apt  in  the  use  of  that  potent  weapon  ridicule, 
but  not  very  sharp  after  all  in  "  seeing  into 
things  out  of  sight ; '".  and  for  a  time  it  was 
doubtful  whether  any  new  editor  would  have 
the  courage  to  appear  in  public.  Experience 
has  shown,  however,  that  the  interest  of  the 
public  in  popular  Tales  and  Traditions  has 
gone  on  increasing,  if  we  may  judge  by  the 
number  of  volumes  of  that  character  recently 
published,  until  no  intelligent  student  can 
now  excuse  himself  for  not  examining  this 
species  of  literature  and  coming  to  some  con- 
clusion as  to  its  import. 


8  P refatory  Remarks. 

It  is  worth  remarking  that  one  of  the  great- 
est of  recent  German  writers  has  introduced 
into  his  works  two  Fairy  Stories  in  particular, 
to  say  nothing  of  the  symbolic  character  of 
his  writings  in  general,  full  of  valuable  mean- 
ing to  those  who  understand  them.  We  re- 
fer to  the  New  Melusina  in  Meister's  Travels, 
and  the  so-called  tale  in  the  story  of  the  Ger- 
man Emigrants.  No  one  who  can  dive  into 
the  sense  of  these  two  tales  will  hastily  con- 
clude that  all  fairy  stories  are  mere  senseless 
fictions,  addressed  to  the  fancy  and  capacity 
of  childhood.  But  while  this  must  be  ad- 
mitted, it  is  evident,  on  the  other  hand,  that 
the  supposition  of  a  profound  sense  in  all 
popular  tales  indiscriminately,  would  be  the 
extreme  of  folly  in  the  other  direction  : 
it   would   be  as   absurd   as   to   attribute   in 


# 


Prefatory  Remarks.         9 

good  earnest  all  modern  jokes  to  one  Joe 
Miller. 

If  some  of  the  stories  in  question  do  really 
enclose  an  interesting,  not  to  say  a  profound 
rational  sense,  and  in  other  respects  furnish 
valuable  materials  for  study,  which  can  hard- 
ly be  doubted,  it  becomes  an  important  ques- 
tion, as  to  how  the  reader  is  to  discriminate 
between  such  tales  and  traditions  as  have 
value,  and  the  no  doubt  much  larger  class  of 
fictions  void  of  sense  and  utterly  worthless. 
How,  it  may  be  asked,  is  the  reader  to  sepa- 
rate the  wheat  from  the  chaff,  and  feel  any 
tolerable  security  that  he  is  not  practising  a 
delusion  upon  himself  in  the  study  of  these 
products  of  the  fancy  or  the  imagination  ? 

Doubtless  this  is  an  important  question  ; 
but  it  is  not  the  purpose  of  the  writer  to  dis- 


$ 

10       P refatory  Hemarhs. 

cuss  it  at  this  time.  He  has  already  had 
something  to  say  on  this  subject  elsewhere, 
and  will  here  only  remark,  that  the  inter- 
preter of  mystical  writings,  especially  those 
that  have  reached  us  from  antiquity,  cannot 
be  too  careful  in  securing  his  fast  hold  upon 
what  is  called  truth  and  nature,  or,  more  ap- 
propriately, the  truth  of  nature  ;  for  this  alone 
is  the  true  key  to  whatever  has  been  written 
in  the  spirit  of  that  truth.  With  this  pre- 
caution, however,  no  one  need  be  particularly 
exposed  in  searching  out  a  hidden  sense  in 
Fairy  or  other  mythological  tales,  though  it 
may  not  be  worth  while,  after  obtaining  the 
key  (often  drawn  from  the  study  itself),  to 
bestow  much  time  upon  this  species  of  study. 
Books  in  general  are  designed  to  serve  a  par- 
ticular purpose  ;   and  when  that  purpose  is 


Prefatory  Remarks.       11 

accomplished  they  may  be  consigned  to  the 
past,  as  respects  the  student,  or,  to  the  future, 
to  repeat  their  service  to  a  rising  or  coming 
generation. 

It  is  certain,  meantime,  and  this  should  he 
well  considered,  that  the  best  of  ancient  learn- 
ing was  couched  in  proverbs  and  parables,  as 
Lord  Bacon  himself  has  told  us  ;  and  Solomon 
has  left,  as  a  perpetual  record,  the  declara- 
tion, that — A  wise  man  will  hear,  and  will 
increase  learning  ;  and  a  man  of  understand- 
ing shall  attain  unto  wise  counsels,  [so  as] 
to  understand  a  proverb  and  the  interpreta- 
tion ;  the  words  of  the  wise  and  their  dark 
sayings.  If  there  are  those  who  imagine 
that  the  wise  king  would  have  excluded 
Fairy  Tales  from  the  contemplation  of  wise 
men,    then   let    them    not    claim    a  divine 


12        Prefatory  Remarks. 

sense  for  the  Song  of  Songs,  which  is  Solo- 
mon's. 

There  are  those  who  believe  that  the  ima- 
gination is  a  great  creative  power  in  the  soul ; 
which,  in  itself,  ais  vague  and  unstable  ;" 
and  that  it  is  the  duty  of  the  artist  "  to  reg- 
ulate and  to  fix  it,  and  at  last  to  exalt  it 
into  visible  presence."  When  thus  disci- 
plined, it  is  supposed  that  the  imagination 
may  "  body  forth  the  forms  of  things  un- 
known, and  give  to  airy  nothing  a  local  hab- 
itation and  a  name  "  far  more  enduring  than 
the  visible  forms  of  external  nature.  But  we 
will  not  discuss  this  point. 

It  may  just  be  remarked  here,  that  while 
some  of  the  Fairy  and  other  tales,  recently 
brought  to  light,  have  a  heathen  origin,  prob- 
ably in  part  Druidical,  and  some  have  what 


P  r  efatory  He  marks.       13 

is  called  a  profane  or  unreligious  source  ;  there 
are  others  again,  which  are  like  those  of  the 
Gesta  Bomanorum,  entirely  Christian  in  their 
character,  for  which  we  are  undoubtedly  in- 
debted to  the  monks  of  the  middle  ages,  who 
were  at  one  time  in  possession  of  most  of  the 
libraries  and  nearly  all  of  the  learning  of  the 
Christian  world. 

The  writer  of  these  remarks,  in  the  hope  of 
discovering  some  grains  of  gold  amid  "  the 
dust  of  the  middle  ages,"  has  recently  been 
looking  into  Campbell's  collection  of  West 
Highland  Stories,  and,  mixed  up  with  a  good 
deal  that  most  readers  would,  no  doubt,  con- 
sider little  better  than  rubbish  (though  it 
might  not  be  well  to  be  over  bold  in  passing 
judgment),  he  has  found  some  tales,  and  not 
a  few  either,  which  have  given  out  what  seems 


-# 


14       Prefatory  Remarks. 

to  him  a  most  rich  and  valuable  meaning,  in 
the  highest  degree  instructive. 

One  of  these  peculiarly  constructed  tales 
may  be  found  at  page  87  of  the  second  vol- 
ume of  the  collection  just  named  ;  but  as  the 
book  may  not  be  conveniently  at  hand  for  the 
general  reader,  we  will  copy  the  Tale  entire, 
omitting  no  syllable  of  it,  and  will  then,  by 
way  of  notes,  append  what  we  understand  to 
be  its  import. 

It  is  requested,  however,  that  before  exam- 
ining the  notes,  the  reader  will  slowly  pass 
the  story  before  his  eyes,  silently  pondering 
the  question — What  was  the  purpose  of  this 
story  ?  and  let  him  lay  his  mind  to  it  in  that 
spirit  of  earoestness  which,  in  the  church, 
takes  the  form  of  prayer.  If  he  does  not 
readily  discover  the  meaning,  then  let  him 


♦/ 


P V efatory  HemarTcs.       15 

read  the  explanatory  notes;  and  decide 
whether  the  imputed  sense  is  or  is  not  in 
the  story. 

The  story  purports  to  account  for  the  man- 
ner in  which  a  certain  mysterious  Ked  Book 
came  to  be  at  a  place  called  Appin,  in  Argyle- 
shire  ;  and  it  is  recorded,  according  to  tradi- 
tion, as  recited  by  one  John,  whoever  he  was, 
who  began  in  the  approved  style  of  all  fire- 
side story  tellers. 

An  elaborate  explanation  is  given  here  of 
one  story  ;  but  a  volume  might  easily  be  made, 
beginning  with  pretty  full  explanations  and 
closing  with  a  few  hints  only,  leaving  room 
for  the  exercise  of  the  reader's  ingenuity,  or 
rather  his  candor,  for  mere  ingenuity  alone  will 
hardly  carry  any  one  into  the  heart  of  that 
peculiar  style  of  writing.     Four  other  stories 


■ # 

16        Prefatory  Pemarhs. 

are  added,  viz.  :  "  The  Six  Swans,"  "  The 
White  Dove,"  "  Dummling  and  the  Toad w 
(from  the  "  Fairy  Ring"),  and  "  The  Fox's 
Brush,"  with  a  very  few  words  which  will 
serve  to  give  the  clue  by  which  the  reader 
may  be  guided  into  the  interior  meaning  of 
these  fanciful  tales.  It  is  not  hidden,  nor  is 
it  far  off. 

The  story  of  the  "  Six  Swans  "  illustrates 


hunt"  after  the  "  stag"— Truth— in  the 
"great  forest  "of  the  world,  and  has  been 
carried  by  his  peculiar  genius  away  from  his 
companions.  At  length — perhaps  in  the 
"  evening  "  of  life — he  comes  to  a  stand,  hav- 
ing discovered  that  he  has  lost  his  way.  He 
has  mistaken  either  the  true  object  of  pursuit 
to  it.    The  world  now  confronts 


-# 


# m 

Prefatory  Remarks.       17 

him.  in  the  character  of  a  witch,  for  the  world 
is  a  witch  to  many  who  have  no  belief  in 
witchcraft.  The  pursuit  of  Truth — misdi- 
rected or  misconducted,  we  may  suppose — 
having  failed,  the  man  is  in  a  fit  condition 
to  accept  the  temptations  of  the  world,  which 
appear  in  the  form  of  a  fascinating  daughter 
— a  daughter  of  like  nature,  probably,  with 
her  mother.  I  have  thus  put  the  key  into 
the  lock  :  let  the  curious  reader  turn  it  for 
himself ;  it  will  move  more  easily,  and  he  will 
see  how  the  ever-recurring  Truth  may  be  trans- 
mitted in  a  fairy  tale  from  age  to  age,  to  be 
recognized  by  those  whose  eyes  the  Truth  has 
opened. 

In  the  story  of  the  White  Dove,  again,  the 
Young  Girl  represents  the  principle  of  Truth, 
or  a  genuine  faith  in  man  or  woman  ; — the 

-# 


18        Prefatory  Remarks . 

"  master  and  mistress "  with  whom  she  is 
driving,  are  the  body  and  soul.  In  mid  life 
the  party  are  assailed  by  a  band  of  robbers, 
who  rush  out  upon  them  from  the  thicket  of 
the  world's  temptations,  and  destroy  all  that 
was  destructible  of  it.  But  the  principle  of 
Truth  passes  safely  "  through  the  midst,"  as 
it  did  in  John,  when  Jesus  was  sought  to  be 
taken  by  violence,  or  in  another  instance 
when  he  retires  to  Bethabara  beyond  Jordan 
— that  is,  when  he  conceals  himself  behind 
the  Letter  of  the  Word. 

The  world  figures  in  these  stories  in  infinite 
ways — sometimes  as  a  whole  and  often  in 
some  of  its  particular  aspects.  It  is  a  witch, 
a  giant,  a  monster.  In  a  still  larger  sense 
Nature  appears  in  endless  forms.  She  is  a 
"hedgehog"  over  whose  "fretful  quills"  we 


Prefatory  lie  marks.       19 

may  pass  our  hands  with  impunity  so  long  as 
we  pass  them  in  the  right  direction  ;  hut  if 
we  pass  them  in  the  opposite  direction,  we 
are  wounded  and  lacerated :  if  we  persist 
we  are  destroyed.  At  one  time  the  true 
principle  is  described  as  a  "  simpleton/'  as  in 
Dummling  and  the  Toad,  because  Nature 
goes  steadily  but  with  the  utmost  simplicity 
to  her  work,  and  never  deviates  from  it.  She 
gives  us  a  thread  to  walk  by,  but  if  we  lose 
the  thread  we  fall  into  manifold  difficulties. 
One  may  enlarge  at  pleasure  on  the  principle 
illustrated  in  this  simple  way.  The  thread 
is  the  clue  of  Ariadne  ;  it  is  the  dsemon  of 
Socrates.  If  we  wander  into  the  wrong  path, 
we  must  find  the  thread  again  ;  there  is  no 
other  way,  for  Nature  always  does  one  thing, 
and  by  one  method,  notwithstanding  her  end- 


20        Prefatory  Pemarhs. 

less  diversities.  She  insists  on  obedience  ; 
and  those  who  do  not  go  willingly  with  her 
she  sometimes  saves  in  the  character  of  a 
Fox,  allowing  the  lost  one  a  seat  upon  her 
tail,  as  in  the  ingenious  story  of  the  Fox's 
Brush.  A  deep  and  significant  story  this. 
The  eyes  at  first  are  "  holclen  "  and  do  not 
discover  the  principle  of  Life  in  the  Fox  ; 
nor  are  they  opened  until  the  two  extremes 
— the  head  and  tail — the  two  thieves — are 
cut  off. 

Nature,  in  her  truth  and  simplicity,  is  the 
true  u  mother,"  ever  kind  and  gentle,  wound- 
ing only  to  save.  When  insulted  by  wilful 
neglect  she  becomes  a  "  step-mother,"  and 
when  violated  she  becomes  the  most  inexor- 
able of  masters,  wearing  the  terrible  face  of  a 
tyrant. 


#- 


P refectory  Pemarks.       21 

No  mere  fanciful  theory  can  touch  the  core 
of  this  matter,  and  it  is  useless  to  quarrel 
with  the  "  dish  "  in  which  a  certain  "  golden 
fruit"  is  presented  to  us.  "We  had  better 
make  friends  with  the  Fairies  and  find  out 
what  they  mean  ;  for  sometimes  they  repre- 
sent angels  ;  and  these  again  represent  very 
familiar  friends  if  we  put  ourselves  in  a  right 
relation  toward  them.  In  many  of  these 
stories  we  read  of  a  marvellous  well,  or  a 
spring  of  clear  water,  widening  into  what 
seems  a  lake,  in  the  bottom  of  which  may 
be  descried  a  magnificent  city.  So,  in  these 
little  pools  of  fairy  legend,  extraordinary  won- 
ders may  be  discovered  by  those  who  have 
eyes  to  see. 

Washington  City,  January  2,  1863. 


THE    STOEY 


EED    BOOK    OF    APPIN 


-# 


THE  STOKY 

OF   THE 

EED  BOOK  OF  APPIK 


"Once  upon  a  time  there  lived  a 
man  [note  1]  at  Appin,  Argyleshire, 
and  he  took  to  his  house  [2]  an  orphan 
boy  [3].  When  the  boy  was  grown  up 
he  was  sent  to  Herd  [4]  ;  and  upon  a 
day  of  days,  and  him  herding,  there  came 
a  fine  gentleman  [5]  where  he  was,  who 
asked  him  to  become  his  servant,  and 
(promised)  that  he  would  give  him 
plenty  to  eat  and  drink,  clothes,  and 
, , g, 


^- 

26  The   Story   of  the 

great  wages  [6].  The  boy  told  him  that 
he  would  like  very  much  to  get  a  good 
suit  of  clothes,  but  that  he  would  not 
engage  till  he  would  see  his  Master  [7]  ; 
but  the  fine  gentleman  would  have  him 
engaged  without  delay:  this  the  boy 
would  not  do  upon  any  terms,  till  he 
would  see  his  Master.  '  Well,'  said  the 
gentleman, L  in  the  mean  time,  write  your 
name  in  this  Book.'  Saying  this,  he  put 
his  hand  into  his  oxter  pocket,  and  pull- 
ing out  a  large  Bed  Book,  he  told  the 
boy  to  write  his  name  in  the  Book. 
This  the  boy  would  not  do ;  neither 
would  he  tell  his  name,  till  he  would  ac- 
quaint his  Master  first.  '  Now,'  said  the 
gentleman,    c  since  you  will   neither  en- 


Red  Booh  of  Appin.        27 

gage  nor  tell  me  your  name  [8]  till  you 
see  your  present  Master,  be  sure  to  meet 
me  about  sunset  to-morrow,  at  a  certain 
place.'  The  boy  promised  that  he  would 
be  sure  to  meet  him  at  the  place  about 
sunsetting.  When  the  boy  came  home 
he  told  his  Master  what  the  gentleman 
said  to  him.  '  Poor  boy,'  says  he,  c  a  fine 
master  he  would  make ;  lucky  for  you 
that  you  neither  engaged  nor  wrote  your 
name  in  his  Book  [9] :  but  since  you 
promised  to  meet  him,  you  must  go  ;  but 
as  you  value  your  life,  do  as  I  tell  you.' 
His  Master  gave  him  a  sword  [10],  and 
at  the  same  time  he  told  him  to  be  sure 
and  be  at  the  place  mentioned  a  while 
before  suuset  [11],  and  to  draw  a  circle 


28  TA*   Story   of  the 

round  himself  with  the  point  of  his 
sword  in  the  name  of  the  Trinity  [12]. 
1  When  you  do  this,  draw  a  cross  in  the 
centre  of  the  circle  [13]  ;  upon  which 
you  will  stand  yourself;  and  do  not  move 
out  of  that  position  till  the  rising  of  the 
sun  next  morning  [14].  He  also  told 
him  that  the  gentleman  would  wish  him 
to  come  out  of  the  circle  to  put  his  name 
in  the  Book ;  but  that  upon  no  account 
was  he  to  leave  the  circle.  4  But  ask  the 
Book  till  you  would  write  your  name 
yourself  [15],  and  when  once  you  get 
hold  of  the  Book  keep  it  [16] ;  he  can- 
not touch  a  hair  of  your  head,  if  you 
keep  inside  of  the  circle'  [17]. 

"So  the  boy  was  at  the  place   [18] 
# 


Red  Booh  of  Appin.        29 

long  before  the  gentleman  made  his  ap- 
pearance ;  but  sure  enough  he  came  after 
sunset :  he  tried  all  his  arts  to  get  the 
boy  outside  of  the  circle,  to  sign  his 
name  in  the  Red  Book;  but  the  boy 
would  not  move  one  foot  out  of  the  place 
where  he  stood  [19]  ;  but  at  the  long 
last  he  handed  the  Book  to  the  boy,  so 
as  to  write  his  name  therein.  The  Book 
was  no  sooner  inside  the  circle,  than  it 
fell  out  of  the  gentleman's  hand  inside 
the  circle  [20] :  the  boy  cautiously 
stretches  out  his  hand  for  the  Book,  and 
as  soon  as  he  got  hold  of  it  he  put  it 
into  his  oxter.  When  the  fine  gentle- 
man saw  that  he  did  not  mean  to  give 
him  back  the  Book,  he  got  furious  ;  and 

: # 


80       Med  Booh  of  Appin. 

at  last  be  transformed  himself  into  a 
great  many  likenesses,  blowing  fire  and 
brimstone  out  of  his  mouth  and  nostrils 
[21]  :  at  times  he  would  appear  as  a 
horse ;  other  times  as  a  huge  cat,  and  a 
fearful  beast  [22]  :  he  was  going  round 
the  circle  the  length  of  the  night :  when 
day  was  beginning  to  break  he  let  out 
one  fearful  screech  ;  he  put  himself  into 
the  likeness  of  a  large  raven,  and  he  was 
soon  out  of  the  boy's  sight.  The  boy  still 
remained  where  he  was  till  he  saw  the 
sun  in  the  morning  [23],  which  no  sooner 
he  observed  than  he  took  to  his  soles 
home  as  fast  as  he  could  [24].  He  gave 
the  Book  to  his  Master  [25]  ;  and  this  is 
how  the  far-famed  Red  Book  was  got." 


EXPLANATORY    NOTES. 


Note  1.  Once  upon  a  time  there  lived  a  man. 
Man  is  the  subject  of  this  story,  as  he  is  of  most 
stories  and  tales  of  all  sorts ;  and,  truly,  Man  is  the 
subject  of  all  the  wonders  and  marvels  of  the  -world. 
He  is  the  great  miracle  of  nature,  and  is  said  to  carry 
within  himself  the  greatest  secret  in  the  universe. 
What  he  signifies  in  this  story  must  be  left  to  be  dis- 
closed by  the  general  sense  of  the  Tale. 

2.  The  man  took  to  Ms  house.  By  the  expression 
Ms  house,  we  may  understand  the  man  himself.  Man 
is  often  called  a  house  in  Scripture ;  and  the  story  we 
are  considering,  as  will  soon  appear,  is  a  symbolical 
illustration  of  one  of  the  greatest  mysteries  of  Scrip- 
ture ;  and  not  one  merely,  but  the  entire  course  of 
Christian  doctrine.  Man  is  called  a  house  :  Set  thy 
house  in  order,  for  thou  shalt  die,  and  not  live,  2d 


32        Explanatory  Notes. 

Kings  20,  1 ;  that  is,  set  thyself  in  order,  and  prepare 
for  death.  Again  :  The  house  of  the  righteous  shall 
stand ;  but  that  of  the  wicked  shall  he  overthrown, 
Prov.  12,  7,  and  14,  11.  Again :  we  read  in  He- 
brews 6,  3.  that  Christ  is  a  Son  over  his  own  house, 
whose  house  are  we,  if,  &c.  Again  :  Every  man  went 
into  his  own  house,  John  7,  3 ;  that  is,  after  a  certain 
discussion  with  the  Pharisees,  every  man  of  them  re- 
turned to  his  own  opinion.  Again :  Jesus  enters 
Peter's  house ;  that  is,  the  Spirit  of  Truth  enters  Peter 
himself, — and  cures  or  corrects  Ms  opinion  of  the  visible 
church,  the  mother  of  his  faith  ;  faith  being  the  daugh- 
ter of  the  church,  and  Peter's  wife.  But  in  Scripture 
the  expression  house,  as  also  that  of  wife,  is  nsed  in 
various  senses. 

3.  The  man  took  to  his  house  an  Orphan  Boy.  An 
orphan  has  neither  father  nor  mother:  and  thus  far 
he  becomes  a  good  figure  for  Melchisedek,  who  was 
without  father,  without  mother,  without  descent,  hav- 
ing neither  beginning  of  days  nor  end  of  life ;  and  he 
was  made  like  unto  the  Son  of  God.  Heb.  7,  3.  He 
is  called  also  king  of  righteousness;    and  after  that, 


♦  - 


Explanatory   Notes.        33 

King  of  Peace, — or,  as  we  may  read  it,  the  Prince  of 
Peace.  This  is  the  most  mysterious  personage  in  Scrip- 
ture next  after  Him,  to  whom  he  is  said  to  be  "  like  :  " 
but  the  likeness  itself  is  a  mystery,  and  is  no  other  than 
the  secret  of  the  Lord. 

Let  the  reader  apprehend,  if  he  can,  the  idea  of  one 
who  has  neither  father  nor  mother,  beginning  of  days 
nor  end  of  life ;  and  then  let  him  compare  this  idea 
with  his  idea  of  the  Son  of  God,  who  was,  according  to 
John,  with  God  in  the  beginning,  and  was  God;  his 
own  Father  and  his  own  Son.  By  thus  contemplating 
the  inward  idea  until  it  takes  the  form  of  faith,  he  may 
at  length  perceive  the  force  of  the  simile  of  the  Orphan 
Boy, — which  the  man  took  to  his  own  house,  that  is, 
to  his  own  soul. 

4.  The  Boy  was  sent  to  Herd.  That  is,  he  was  sent 
into  the  wilderness  of  the  world,  to  encounter  that  class 
of  people  called  by  the  Baptist  a  generation  of  "  vipers," 
Matt.  3,  7,  bipeds  with  quadrupedal  names. 

In  a  similar  sense,  we  read  the  instructions  to  the 
disciples,  Behold,  I  send  you  forth  as  sheep  amidst 
wolves,  Matt.  10,  16.     This  is  a  usual  comparison  in 


f 


34        Explanatory   Notes. 

Scripture.  Sometimes  particular  passions,  or  tenden- 
cies, or  principles  are  figured  by  particular  animals,  as 
by  the  lion,  the  leopard,  the  lamb,  and  the  kid,  as  also 
by  the  bear,  the  serpent,  &c. 

We  read  that  on  the  first  appearance  of  Christ  from 
the  Jordan,  he  was  taken  into  the  wilderness  "  to  be 
tempted  of  the  devil ;  "  and  we  now  come  to  the  image 
of  this  in  the  story  before  us. 

5.  There  came  (to  the  orphan  boy)  a  fine  gentleman. 
This  is  no  other  than  a  certain  personage  who  appears 
in  the  6th  verse  of  the  first  chapter  of  Job  :  Now 
there  was  a  day  wThen  the  sons  of  God  came  to  present 
themselves  before  the  Lord,  and  Satan  came  also  among 
them.  This  is  the  gentleman  who  offered  the  Lord 
"  all  the  kingdoms  of  the  world,  and  the  glory  of  them," 
— if  he  would  fall  down  and  worship  him  ; — that  is,  if 
he  would  become  his  servant,  as  expressed  in  this  story. 
The  story  represents  this  personage  as  a  fine  gentleman : 
and,  in  truth,  he  finely  represents  the  world  and  the 
temptations  thereof.  He  offers  the  boy  plenty  to  eat 
and  drink,  and  clothes ;  but  keeps  out  of  view  the  doc- 
trine, that  the  life  is  more  than  meat,  and  the  body 


Explanatory  Notes,        35 

than  raiment,  Matt.  6,  25.     He  makes  many  promises, 
and  among  them 

6.  Great  wages :  but  he  omits  to  tell  the  boy  that 
the  wages  of  sin  is  death  ;  and  that  sin  and  the  exclu- 
sive service  of  the  world  are  synonymous  expressions. 
He  does  not  remind  the  boy  of  the  text :  Ye  cannot 
serve  God  and  mammon. 

The  boy,  however,  is  not  easily  seduced  by  this 
Mephistopheles  :  he  tells  the  tempter  that  he  will  make 
no  engagement  till  he  can  first  see 

7.  His  master.  "Who  now  is  the  Master  of  this  mys- 
terious boy  ?  This  we  must  determine  by  the  character 
of  the  cautions  and  commandments  he  gives  the  boy, 
and  by  the  conduct  of  the  boy  himself,  which  we  shall 
soon  see. 

8.  The  boy  refused  to  give  his  name  to  the  fine 
gentleman.  This  signifies  that  the  worldly  man,  called 
by  St.  Paul  sometimes  the  carnal  and  sometimes  the 
natural  man,  receiveth  not  the  things  of  the  Spirit  of 
God.  .  .  .  Neither  can  he  know  them,  because 
they  are  spiritually  discerned,  1  Cor.  2,  14.  St.  Paul 
intimates  the  same  thing  when  he  speaks  of  the  life  of 


♦,- 


36        Explanatory  Notes. 

the  true  disciples  as  being  hid  in  Christ.  Such  men 
may  be  said  to  be  invisible  to  those  who  are  devoted  to 
the  world,  or  to  a  merely  worldly  life,  and  the  latter 
asks  in  vain  the  name,  that  is,  the  signification  of  such 
a  life. 

9.  The  boy  had  been  desired  to  write  his  name  in 
a  certain  book,  held  out  to  him  by  the  fine  gentleman, 
and  was  commended  by  his  Master  for  not  doing  it. 

To  write  one's  name  is  a  pledge ;  and  to  write  one's 
name  in  a  book  held  out  by  the  world  and  its  entice- 
ments, is  to  surrender  the  hope  of  life  into  the  grasp  of 
death.  Turn  ye,  turn  ye, — for  why  will  ye  die,  O 
house  of  Israel ;  that  is,  turn  ye  from  the  service  of  the 
world  to.  the  service  of  God,  often  figured  in  Scripture 
by  the  expressions  death  and  life  ;  for  these  expressions, 
thus  used  in  Scripture,  do  not  refer  to  the  body.  St. 
Paul  tells  us  that  the  friendship  of  the  world  is  enmity 
with  God ;  and  a  greater  than  St.  Paul  gives  a  suffi- 
cient warning,  to  those  who  will  receive  it,  in  the  lan- 
guage: "For  what  is  a  man  profited,  if  he  gain  the 
whole  world  and  lose  his  own  soul  ?  or  what  shall  a 
man  give  in  exchange  for  his  soul? 


-# 


A 

Explanatory  Notes.        37 

As  the  boy  is  now  about  to  encounter  the  fine  gen- 
tleman, that  is,  the  world,  his  Master,  besides  many 
verbal  cautions  and  instructions,  gave  him 

10.  A  sword.  The  sword  is  the  emblem  of  courage  ; 
and  in  the  conflicts  of  the  spirit  with  the  world  this 
virtue  is  greatly  needed.  "When  Moses  gave  his  last 
instructions  to  the  children  of  Israel,  to  go  over  and 
possess  the  Land  of  Promise,  Deut.  31,  where  the 
Heathens  were  to  be  destroyed,  he  exhorts  them  to 
be  strong  and  of  good  courage;  assuring  them  that 
God  (their  Master)  would  not  fail  nor  forsake  them : 
and  he  gave  the  same  encouragement  to  Joshua  "in 
the  sight  of  all  Israel,"  Be  strong  and  of  good 
courage, — the  language  being  repeated  to  give  em- 
phasis to  it;  by  which  we  may  understand  its  im- 
portance. 

The  figurative  character  of  this  Mosaic  history  has 
been  sufficiently  pointed  out  by  Origen  and  others ; 
the  transition  from  Egypt  to  the  Holy  Land  signifying 
the  passing  over  of  the  Israelites  from  a  material  to  a 
spiritual  life,  to  which  end  it  became  necessary  to  de- 
stroy the  worldly  passions,  figured  by  the  Heathen. 
<§> 


38        Ex  pi  anatory   Notes. 

But  we  will  return  to  the  matter  in  hand,  in  illustra- 
tion of  the  figurative  use  of  the  sword. 

In  Ezek.  30,  24,  we  read,  that  God  gave  his  sword 
(in  other  words  he  gave  his  spirit,  or  his  power)  to 
those  who  fought  the  good  fight  of  faith  in  his  name. 
TTe  read  much  in  the  Scripture  of  the  sword  of  the 
Spirit ;  the  Spirit,  indeed,  "being  compared  to  a  two- 
edged  sword. 

11.  The  boy  was  directed  to  meet  the  fine  gentle- 
man before  sunset.  This  signifies  that  he  was  directed 
to  encounter  the  world  before  any  dimness  should  pass 
over  that  Light  which  "  lighteth  every  man  that  cometh 
into  the  world ;  "  that  light  which  whoso  foregoes 
becomes  an  early  victim  to  the  fine  gentleman  in  the 
form  of  riches,  of  honors,  or  of  pleasures,  for  he  takes 
many  forms  ;  for  here  is  the  Iroad  path  we  read  of  in 
Scripture,  and  many  there  be  who  go  in  thereat.  These 
riches,  honors,  and  pleasures  often  figure  as  giants,  or 
other  monsters,  in  these  mythical  stories  of  the  middle 
ages ;  and  we  often  see  them  destroyed  by  the  youngest 
child  of  wealthy  parents — not  without  reference  to  the 
power  of  the  Spirit,  which,  though  latest  in  birth,  from 


V 


Explanatory   Notes.        39 

a  material  view,  is  first  in  power.  For  who  may  abide 
His  coming,  and  who  shall  stand  when  He  appeareth  ? 
It  was  He  who,  in  the  person  of  Samson,  killed  the 
lion.  It  was  He  who,  in  the  person  of  David,  slew  the 
giant  of  Gath,  and  who  killed  both  the  lion  and  the 
bear  while  yet  a  youth  ;  and  here  the  student  may  con- 
sider whether  the  giant  of  Gath,  the  lion  and  the  bear, 
though  killed  of  old,  are  not  yet,  nevertheless,  in  the 
world,  going  at  large  to  and  fro  in  the  earth,  and  walk- 
ing up  and  down  in  it ;  for  the  history  of  the  past  can 
only  furnish  "  ensamples "  for  our  instruction  and 
guidance. 

To  guard  against  the  fine  gentleman,  that  is,  against 
the  world,  its  giant  temptations  and  its  magical  en- 
chantments, figured  in  many  of  these  tales  of  the 
middle  ages  as  a  witch  (the  very  serpent  in  Eden, 
and  no  less  the  beast  in  the  Revelation),  the  boy  was 
directed  to  draw  a  circle  round  himself  in  the  name 
of 

12.  The  Trinity.  We  see  plainly  here,  that  this 
story  originated  with  a  Christian,  and  must  have  been 
told  in  the  interest  of  Christianity.     "We  may  therefore 


40        Explanatory  Notes. 

expect  to  find  in  Christianity  the  key  for  disclosing  its 
meaning. 

The  boy  was  further  directed 

13.  To  draw  a  cross  in  the  centre  of  the  circle,  and 
to  stand  upon  it.  The  circle  expresses  the  limit  or 
boundary  between  holiness  and  sin,  which  have  no  in- 
ter-communication the  one  with  the  other:  and  the 
boy  was  commanded  to  stand  upon  the  cross,  and  not  to 
move  from  it  until 

14.  The  rising  of  the  sun  the  next  morning.  The 
cross  is  the  emblem  of  Christianity,  and  stands  here  for 
the  church  of  Christ.  "We  read  particularly  of  two 
Lights  in  Scripture :  one  is  compared  to  that  of  the 
Lamp  ;  and  this  is  the  Law,  the  Divine  Law  of  Moses, 
which  to  the  psalmist,  was  as  a  lamp  to  his  feet,  and 
threw  a  light  upon  his  path ; — but  his  pathway  led  to 
that  other  Light  which  is  compared  to  that  of  the  sun; 
and  this  is  Christ,  the  spirit  of  both,  the  Law  and  the 
visible  church.  Christ  is  "  the  end  of  all,"  in  whom,  or 
in  his  church,  the  Christian  is  commanded  to  "  abide," 
if  he  would  overcome  the  world ;  that  is,  if  he  would 
overcome  the  fine  gentleman.     He  must  stand  by  or 


Explanatory  Notes.        41 

upon  the  cross  until  the  rising  of  the  true  Light,  which 
is  compared  to  that  of  the  sun.  This  is  the  light  of 
(whom)  the  Baptist  is  a  witness,  and  as  the  Baptist  is 
the  forerunner  of  the  light,  so  does  the  visible  church 
precede  the  coming  of  the  same  light  to  the  phenom- 
enal or  natural  man. 

Let  us  explain  this  a  little  further ;  and,  for  this 
purpose,  we  will  refer  to  Dante ;  who,  for  aught  any 
one  seems  likely  to  know,  might  have  been  contempo- 
rary with  the  author  of  the  story  under  examination. 

In  the  Vita  Nuova  of  the  great  Italian  poet,  the 
visible  church  (of  his  day)  is  figured  by  a  woman  ; 
and  she  is  represented  as  midway,  directly  in  line, 
between  the  poet  and  his  Beatrice ;  and  by  Beatrice 
he  means  his  Blessing.  !N"ow,  he  sees  his  blessing  be- 
yond, or  through,  that  is,  by  means  of  the  church. 
The  woman  who  represents  the  church  he  calls  Joan  ; 
telling  us,  himself,  of  the  likeness  of  this  name,  an 
arbitrary  name  chosen  by  himself,  to  that  of  the  Bap- 
tist, as  the  forerunner  of  Christ ;  so  openly  does  the 
poet  hint  to  us  the  meaning  of  his  mystical  writing. 
He  tells  us,  also,  that  this  woman,  this  Joan,  was  by 
$ 


42        Exp  I  a  01  at  or  y   JSFo  t 


es. 


some  called  Primarina,  or  Spring  ;  and  he  gives  as  the 
reason,  that  the  Spring  precedes  the  Summer,  connect- 
ing this  statement  with  the  vision  of  his  Beatrice ;  thus 
intimating  that  the  two,  the  Spring  and  the  Summer, 
are  emblematic  of  the  two  women,  Joan  and  Beatrice; 
who  represent  themselves,  the  visible  and  the  invisible 
church,  the  latter  being  the  true  light  of  the  former  ; 
the  same  two  being  the  law  and  the  true  Gospel  there- 
of. Whatever  other  meanings  may  be  discovered  in 
Dante,  this  single  point  seems  to  stand  out  with  great 
clearness.  Dante,  we  may  suppose,  contemplated  the 
church  until  its  spirit  rose  before  him,  and  this  spirit 
he  personifies  in  Beatrice. 

In  like  manner,  according  to  the  method  of  Dante's 
teaching,  the  boy  was  directed  to  stand  upon  the  cross; 
that  is,  he  was  required  to  "  abide  "  by  the  church, 
represented  by  the  cross  in  the  centre  of  the  circle 
(the  Spirit  in  the  "  midst"),  while  exposed  to  the  dangers 
and  temptations  of  the  world,  until  he  should  see  the 
rising  of  the  sun  in  the  morning ;  or,  as  Dante  might 
say,  until  the  vision  of  Beatrice  should  rise  before  him. 
This  is  the  Light  so  much  spoken  of  in  Scripture,  of 


t- 


Explanatory  Notes.       43 

which  the  Scripture  itself  is  a  witness,  represented  by 
the  Baptist,  who  baptizes  in  water,  the  symbol  of  the 
Letter — the  baptism  by  fire  being  the  Spirit  of  the  letter. 
Isaiah  points  to  the  conditions  under  which  the  Light 
may  be  received,  and  exclaims — Then  shall  thy  Light 
break  forth  as  the  morning  (the  reader  will  notice  the 
simile),  and  thine  health  shall  spring  forth  speedily ; 
and  thy  righteousness  shall  go  before  thee ;  and  the 
glory  (that  is,  the  Light)  of  the  Lord  shall  be  thy  re- 
ward; ch.  58,  8.  The  expression,  "thy  righteousness 
shall  go  before  thee,"  states  a  truth  of  inexpressible 
importance,  whether  designed  or  not.  The  rewards 
of  the  world  follow  the  life,  or  the  visible  actions  of 
man  in  the  world,  but  in  the  life  of  the  Spirit,  they 
go  before  the  disciple,  who  thus  sees  his  reward  already 
in  the  future, — a  doctrine  which  we  may  consider  pre- 
sented in  a  figure  in  many  places  of  Scripture  ;  in  the 
pillar  of  fire  by  night  and  cloud  by  day,  guiding  the 
children  of  Israel  in  their  exodus  from  Egypt ;  as  also 
by  the  star  which  led  the  wise  men  to  the  true  Light. 
Besides  the  passage  just  recited  from  Isaiah,  the 
prophet  refers  to  the  same  Light  in  many  other  places : 


44        Exp  I  an  at  or y  No  tes. 

as,  in  ch.  60,  20 :  Thy  sun  shall  no  more  go  down, 
(after  the  coming  of  the  true  Light)  ;  neither  shall  thy 
moon  withdraw  itself;  for  the  Lord  shall  be  thine  ever- 
lasting Light,  and  the  days  of  thy  mourning  shall  be 
ended.  The  sun  and  the  moon  here  represent  reason 
and  faith,  above  which  there  is  a  true  Light  support- 
ing them  both. 

The  Scriptures  are  full  of  references  to  this  Light, 
whose  possessors  were  called  the  children  of  Light ; 
but  the  figurative  character  of  the  expression  is  apt  to 
mislead  a  student  who  imagines  that  he  can  see  this 
Light  bodily,  or  anything  like  it:  hence  the  Law 
against  making  or  bowing  down  to  any  graven  image, 
or  anything  that  is  in  heaven  above,  or  that  is  in  the 
earth  beneath,  or  that  is  in  the  water  under  the  earth. 
But  let  us  return. 

The  Christian  must  stand  upon  the  cross,  or  "  abide  " 
in  Christ,  until  he  comes  out  of  darkness  into  Ms  mar- 
vellous Light,  1.  Pet.  2,  9. 

This  Light  preceded  that  of  the  sun  and  the  moon, 
whether  these  be  taken  figuratively  or  not;  for  we 
read  that  God  said,  on  the  first  day,  Let  there  be  Light, 


f 


Explanatory  Notes.       45 

and  there  was  Light,  when,  as  yet,  "  the  sun  was  not, 
neither  the  moon."  The  Law  is  said  to  be  Light,  Prov. 
6,  22,  because  it  teaches  the  "  way  "  to  the  Light ;  and 
those  who  stand  upon  the  Law  (or  "  do  "  the  will  of 
Him^who  gave  it)  shall  see  the  Light ;  that  is,  they 
shall  see  Hhn  who  published  himself  as  the  Light  of 
the  world,  declaring  that  those  who  follow  Him  (that 
is,  those  who  stand  upon  the  cross)  shall  have  the 
Light  of  Life,  whose  rising  in  the  soul  is  compared, 
in  this  story  of  the  Eed  Book,  to  the  rising  of  the  sun 
in  the  morning,  the  very  simile  of  the  prophet  Isaiah, 
as  we  have  just  shown. 

The  reader  need  not  imagine  that,  in  treating  this 
subject,  there  is  a  contradiction  in  speaking  of  Christ 
as  both  the  way  to  the  Light,  and  as  the  Light  himself : 
as  the  "  way,"  he  is  the  Law  (the  "  flesh,"  Phil.  3,  3-6), 
and  he  is  the  visible  church  (the  "  body  "  of  Christ, 
Ephes.  2,  22,  23,  Col.  1,  24)  ;  but  as  the  Light,  he  is  the 
eternal,  the  unspeakable  Word.  We  see  that  the  author 
of  the  Epistle  to  the  Hebrews  falls  into  a  seeming  con- 
tradiction, in  that,  whilst  he  speaks  of  Melchisedek  as 
without  beginning  of  days  or  end  of  life,  and  therefore 


46        Explanatory  Notes, 

eternal,  he  tells  us  that  he  was  made  like  unto  the  Son 
of  God ;  and  even  John,  whilst  in  one  place  he  tells 
us  that  the  Word  was  with  God  and  was  (?)  God,  tells 
us  also  that  the  Word  was  made  flesh.  But  let  us  re- 
turn once  more  to  our  story. 

His  Master  told  the  hoy  that  the  gentleman  would 
wish  him  to  come  out  of  the  circle,  to  put  his  name  in 
the  Book  ;  that  is,  the  world  is  continually  enticing  us 
to  pass  heyond  the  limits  prescribed  by  the  Divine  Law; 
but  the  boy  was  directed  on  no  account  to  leave  the 
circle:  "But,"  continues  the  Master,  "ask  the  Book  till 
you  would  write  your  name 

15.  Yourself!  "  Man  is  not  saved  by  proxy :  he  is 
commanded  by  St.  Paul  to  work  out  his  own  salvation 
with  fear  and  trembling.  The  virtues  of  another  are 
encouragements  to  a]l  good  men  ;  but  it  is  the  duty  of 
every  man  for  "himself"  to  open  the  door  when  Christ 
knocks,  or  He  will  not  enter :  without  this,  Christ  will 
"  sup  "  with  no  man. 

Whatever  speculations  may  be  made  about  the  will, 
its  freedom  from  or  dependence  upon  a  higher  power — 
a  certain  necessity  for  freedom  in  the  Life-Spirit  may 

# 


t- 


Explanatory  Notes.        47 

not  be  a  contradiction,  except  to  that  discursive  under- 
standing which  cannot  comprehend  how  that  which 
is  eternal  can  with  propriety  he  said  to  be  "  made." 
In  any  view  of  the  mere  speculative  reason,  those  who 
look  to  the  Law  cannot  fail  to  see  that  an  awful  alterna- 
tive is  offered  to  us  in  the  language:  "I  call  heaven 
and  earth  to  record  this  day  against  you,  that  I  have 
set  before  you  life  and  death,  blessing  and  cursing  ? 
therefore  choose  life,  that  both  thou  and  thy  seed  may 
live,  that  thou  mayest  love  the  Lord  thy  God,  and  that 
thou  mayest  obey  his  voice,  and  that  thou  mayest  cleave 
unto  him:  for  he  is  thy  Life;  "  Dent.  30,  19,  20.  To 
obey  the  voice  of  the  Lord,  and  to  cleave  unto  Him. 
has  the  same  meaning  as  the  expression,  to  stand  upon 
the  cross. 

16.  The  boy  was  commanded  to  Tceep  t7ie  JBooJc  when 
once  in  his  possession.  When  the  true  man  once  grasps 
the  Spirit  represented  by  the  Book,  which  was  Red,  the 
color  of  blood,  the  symbol  of  life,  he  must  on  no  ac- 
count relax  his  hold:  he  must  be  sure  "to  keep  it," 
and  not  fall  away  from  grace  once  attained ;  for,  if  he 


48        Explanatory  Notes, 

but  he  lias  the  promise,  that  so  long  as  he  keeps  within 
the  circle  of  Light  whose  centre  is  Christ  (his  Church 
or  his  Spirit),  the  fine  gentleman 

17.  Cannot  touch  a  hair  of  his  head.  The  boy  must 
not  allow  himself  to  be  drawn  beyond  the  limits  of  the 
circle,  no,  not  by  thcpersuasions  of  the  fine  gentleman 
in  the  exercise  of  "  all  his  arts  "  and  blandishments. 
*  18.  The  boy  was  at  the  place  of  meeting — &c.  This 
place  is  indefinitely  called  a  certain  place ;  not  any 
specified  place  :  because  the  fine  gentleman  may  be 
met  in  all  places,  and  so,  also,  at  all  times.  MVe  are 
always  in  the  world  while  in  the  body,  and  are  more 
or  less  exposed  to  its  influences, — for  which  reason  wre 
are  told  to  "  watch  "  and  to  "  pray  "  continually,  lest 
we  fall  into  temptation. 

19.  The  boy  would  not  move  one  foot  out  of  the 
place  where  he  stood.  This  presents  a  fine  picture  of 
that  unshaken  faith  which  "  overcometh  the  world  ;  " 
that  is,  which  oyercometh  the  fine  gentleman. 

20.  The  Book  falls  from  the  hand  of  the  gentleman, 
the  instant  it  passes  within  the  circle.  The  hand  is 
the  symbol  of  power ;  and  we  are  here  taught  that 


$r 


Explanatory  Notes.        49 

the  power  of  the  evil  one  is  absolutely  paralyzed  with- 
in the  circle  where  Christ  is  the  acknowledged  Prince. 
The  "name  "of  Christ,  which  is  said  in  so  many  places 
to  work  as  a  charm,  as  also  the  "  name  "  of  God,  sig- 
nifies the  Divine  Law,  obedience  to  which,  represented 
by  the  figure  of  standing  upon  the  cross  (Christ  being 
the  fulfilment  of  the  Law),  arms  the  true  disciple 
against  all  the  powers  of  evil,  and  even  gives  him 
control  over  them.  The  devils  (the  bad  passions? — 
Luke  10,  17)  were  subject  to  the  disciples  through  the 
"name"  of  the  Holy  One;  that  is,  through  his  power, 
which  comes  as  a  Light  to  those  who  perseveringly 
stand  upon  the  cross,  or  "abide  "  in  Christ;  or,  again, 
in  the  Law,  which  served  as  a  schoolmaster  to  St. 
Paul  to  bring  him  to  the  Light ;  at  which  time,  the 
Law  in  the  Letter,  called  the  "flesh"  of  Christ, 
"was  done  away  with,"  or  was  "left  behind."  Thus 
also,  the  boy  was  free  to  leave  the  circle  after  he 
saw  the  true  Light,  represented  by  the  rising  of  the 
sun. 

When  the  fine  gentleman  is  convinced  that  the  Or- 
phan Boy,  who  figures,  among  other  things,  the  Spirit 


50        Exp  I  a  n  at  or  y   No  tes . 

of  Truth,  is   sustained  by  a  power  above  him,  over 
which  he  has  no  control,  he  becomes  furious, 

21.  Blowing  fire  and  brimstone  out  of  Ms  mouth  and 
nostrils.  Thus,  in  like  manner,  as  we  read  in  the  Reve- 
lation :  And  I  saw  the  horses  in  the  vision,  and  them 
that  sat  on  them,  having  breastplates  of  fire,  and 
jacinth,  and  brimstone :  and  the  heads  of  the  horses 
were  as  the  heads  of  lions ;  and  out  of  their  mouths 
issued  smoke  and  brimstone. 

The  fine  gentleman,  thus  disappointed  in  his  designs 
upon  the  Orphan  Boy,  assumes  all  sorts  of  forms, 
among  others  that  of  a  horse,  and  finally  that  of 

22.  A  fearful  least :  and  although  we  are  not  told, 
as  to  his  heads,  bow  many  he  bad,  we  need  not  doubt 
that  he  took  the  precise  form  of  the  beast  we  read  of 
in  the  Revelation.  If  any  one  asks  here,  why  so  much 
is  said  in  Scripture  of  four  beasts,  especially  in  the 
Revelation,  he  may  be  reminded  that  all  antiquity  saw 
or  recognized  four  elements,  and  four  only,  in  visible 
nature  (the  world).  They  saw  also  seven,  and  but 
seven  planets,  in  the  "  midst  "  of  which  there  was  one 
said  to  be  like  the  Son  of  God ;  for  tbe  Son  of  God 


Explanatory  Notes.        51 

is  in  the  "midst"  of  his  works;  as  he  also  "stands 
among"  us,  even  "  when  we  know  him  not." 

At  the  breaking  of  day  (or  the  dawning  of  the  divine 
reason  in  the  soul,  affirming  the  Divine  Law),  the  beast 
disappears  out  of  the  sight  of  the  boy  ;  who  has  been 
until  then  the  very  figure  of  the  true  "  heir ; "  as  a 
"child,"  differing  in  nothing  from  a  "  servant; "  Gal.  4, 1. 

The  beast  disappearing,  the  Orphan  Boy  neverthe- 
less remains  steadily  upon  the  cross  until  he  sees 

23.  2  he  sun  in  the  morning :  when  he  enters  into 
that  "liberty  "  declared  by  St.  Paul  for  all  those  who 
are  made  "  free  in  Christ,"  the  true  Light,  or  Light 
of  Troth.  Until  thus  made  "  free  indeed,"— John  8,  36, 
— the  Orphan  Boy,  being  yet  a  "  child,"  was  bound 
to  stand  upon  the  cross ;  which  means  that  he  was  in 
"bondage"  to  the  forms  and  emblematic  ceremonies 
of  the  visible  church,  the  mystical  bride  of  the  Lord : 
but  this  bondage  was  for  the  good  of  the  boy,  as  a 
means  of  bringing  him  into  that  "  marvellous  Light " 
which  made  him  free  indeed — free  from  the  obligation 
of  an  unintelligent  obedience  to  the  external  Law,  or 
to  the  visible  church,  because  he  has  received  the 


<*- 


52        Explanatory  Notes. 

spirit  of  both,  by  which  he  has  entered  upon  his  true 
inheritance,  the  Holy  Land,  or  has  received  a  foretaste 
of  it ;  and  this  is  the  "  manifestation  of  Christ "  in  the 
soul,  according  to  the  promise — "  I  will  manifest  my- 
self to  him,  who  hath  my  commandments  and  keepeth 
them" — that  is,  to  him  who  "abides  "in  Christ,  or 
stands  upon  the  cross  waiting  this  manifestation. 

But  what  use  does  the  boy  make  of  his  freedom  ? 
He  no  sooner  sees  the  sun  arise — no  sooner  receives 
the  true  Light,  the  Gospel,  or  Truth  of  the  Law — than 

24.  He  passes  to  his  home,  as  fast  as  he  could :  and 
where  is  the  proper  home  of  a  Christian  ?  "We  are  told 
that  here  we  have  no  abiding  place,  and  that  our  proper 
home  is  in  heaven  ;  but  this  is  to  be  in  Christ,  who 
is  received  by  those  who  stand  upon  the  cross,  waiting 
His  coming. 

Almost  all  allusions  to  this  mystery  in  the  Scripture 
are  figurative  and  symbolical.  The  loved  disciple  in 
the  Gospel  of  John,  is  represented  as  receiving  the 
Mother  of  Jesus  as  his  own  Mother,  and  is  said  to  have 
taken  her  to  his  own  home,  (ch.  19,  25-27) :  but  this 
means  that  he  received  her  to  his  own  heart ;  and  this 


#- 


-* 


Explanatory  Notes.       53 

signifies,  again,  that  the  loved  disciple  found  his  own 
house  in  the  heart  of  his  true  mother,  called  by  St. 
Paul  the  Jerusalem  (or  Church)  above,  the  mother  of 
us  all ;  Gal.  4,  26.  The  true  home  of  a  Christian  is 
often  called  a  Best,  and  is  figured  by  the  Sabbath.  It 
is  an  inward  experience  infinitely  removed  from  all 
possibility  of  adequate  external  representation;  and 
hence  it  is,  that  it  has  been  written  about  mystically 
in  all  ages.  It  is  called  by  St.  Paul  a  great  mystery, 
in  the  Epistle  to  the  Ephesians  (5,  32),  where  he  speaks 
of  it  under  the  figure  of  a  marriage,  the  most  holy  and 
sacred  of  all  human  ties,  yet  falling  immeasurably  be- 
low that  sense  of  unity  with  the  divine  nature  which 
is  the  consummation  of  all  divine  teaching. 

The  boy  having  now  received  the  Red  Book,  the 
emblem,  as  we  have  said,  of  the  true  blood, 

25.  Gave  the  Book  to  his  Master.  This  is  a  figure 
by  which  the  final  duty  of  all  men  is  taught ;  for  in 
the  end,  all  men  are  called  upon  to  surrender  to  God, 
the  true  Master,  that  "  gift  of  Life  "  by  which  man 
has  been  placed  in  a  temporal  scene  of  trial,  where  he 
has  the  power  of  writing  his  name  in  the  Book  of  Life, 


-4> 


$ 

54        Explanatory  Notes. 

or  of  surrendering  his  claims  to  the  true  life  by  falling 
down  in  worship  before  the  powers  of  the  world,  often 
called  the  powers  of  darkness  (the  beast  of  the  Reve- 
lation)— figured  in  this  most  remarkable  story,  with, 
exquisite  taste,  as  a  fine  gentleman ;  because,  the  se- 
ductions of  the  world  are  never  effective  except  when 
they  present  themselves  in  some  attractive  form. 

Let  not  the  simplicity  of  this  tale  suggest  a  doubt 
as  to  its  deep  import.  It  is  one  among  thousands  of 
figurative  and  symbolical  teachings,  one  design  of  which 
is  to  leave  the  soul  free  while  yet  they  teach  ;  so  that 
he  who  receives  the  teaching,  however  grateful  he 
may  be  to  the  teacher,  may  nevertheless,  in  the  lan- 
guage of  St.  Paul,  "  give  all  the  glory  to  God ;  "  for 
it  borders  on  inspiration,  and  is  said  to  rest  on  a  prin- 
ciple incommunicable,  directly  from  man  to  man,  all 
writers  agreeing  that  it  is  the  gift  of  God,  and  not  to 
be  purchased,  except  by  the  sweat  of  the  brow :  Thy 
money  perish  with  thee,  because  thou  hast  thought 
that  the  gift  of  God  might  be  purchased  with  money  ; 
Acts  8,  20.  But  this,  rightly  understood,  ought  to  be 
an  encouragement  to  the  lover  of  Truth,  instead  of 


Explanatory  Notes.        55 

being  felt  as  a  weight  upon  the  heart,  as  it  often  is, 
for  we  may  he  sure  that  what  is  called  the  gift  of  God 
must  he  beyond  the  power  of  man  to  destroy.  Hence 
the  injunction:  Fear  not  them  which  kill  the  body, 
but  are  not  able  to  kill  the  soul:  but  rather  fear 
Him  which  is  able  to  destroy  both  soul  and  body  in 
Hell. 

Oar  book  of  Life  (we  call  it  ours)  belongs  to  another, 
to  whom  we  must  deliver  it  when  summoned  by  Him  : 
and  then,  happy  are  they  who  find  the  words  written 
in  themselves :  Come,  ye  blessed  of  my  Father,  inherit 
the  kingdom  prepared  for  you  from  the  foundation  of 
the  world. 

It  is  proper  now  to  notice  the  fact  already  stated, 
that  this  story  of  the  Orphan  Boy  is  said  to  have  been 
told  by  one  John  ;  and  certainly  not  without  reference 
to  that  John  who  tells  the  story  of  Jesus  so  sublimely, 
and  who  saw  the  vision  in  the  Isle  of  Patmos,  himself 
being  in  that  isle. 

There  seems  nothing  wanting  to  show  the  connec- 
tion of  this  story  with  Christianity,  and  that  it  is  a 
living  picture  of  the  everlasting  doctrines  of  the  Gospel ; 


56        Explanatory  Notes. 

visible  now,  as  ever,  to  those  who  are  privileged  to 
feel  themselves  the  friends  of  God ;  Wisdom,  14. 

It  would  be  easy  to  enlarge  or  extend  this  interpre- 
tation by  numerous  additional  references  to  Scripture, 
illustrating  more  fully  many  points  ;  but,  for  those  who 
know  the  "  way  "  to  the  Truth,  this  would  be  super- 
fluous; while  for  those  who  do  not,  it  might  be  with- 
out profit.  This  Orphan  Boy  (in  many  other  stories  he 
is  figured  as  a  foundling) — represents  one  (who)  is 
compared  to  the  wind,  which,  as  we  read,  bloweth  as 
it  listeth,  and  thou  hearest  the  sound  thereof,  but  canst 
not  tell  whence  it  cometh  or  whither  it  goeth :  for  so, 
is  every  one  that  is  born  of  the  Spirit.  The  sons  of 
God,  we  may  suppose,  are  content  to  know  that  they 
are  heirs  of  salvation,  and  ask  no  questions  as  to 
whence  they  came  or  whither  they  go.  In  them  hope 
has,  most  surely,  given  place  to  trust ;  and  fear,  that 
perpetual  shadow  of  hope,  being  banished,  they  go  on 
their  way  rejoicing  in  the  Lord,  who  is  their  portion. 
To  them  the  language  must  be  clear :  I  am  the  Light 
of  the  world :  whoso  believeth  in  me  shall  not  walk  in 
darkness,  but  shall  have  the  Light  of  Life.  To  them 
# 


Explanatory  Notes.       57 

the  sun  has  risen,  that  sun  which,  we  are  told,  shall 
never  set:  and  this  is  to  be  a  Christian,  and  such  a 
Christian  as  was  before  Abraham. 

There  is  not  a  more  certain  truth  in  the  universe 
than  that  which  is  shadowed  out  in  this  unpretending 
story  from  the  middle  ages.  The  story  itself  is  like 
the  Spirit  it  celebrates :  it  is  an  orphan  springing  up 
" like  a  root  out  of  the  dry  ground  "  of  the  past.  No 
one  knows  its  parentage  in  a  worldly  sense ;  and  yet, 
most  certainly,  there  are  those  who  perfectly  know  the 
family  to  which  the  story  belongs,  and,  in  some  sort, 
its  very  father  and  mother ;  for  God  never  leaves  him- 
self without  witness  in  the  world. 


THE  SIX  SWANS. 

A  king  was  one  day  hunting  in  a 
large  forest,  and  he  chased  a  stag  so 
eagerly  that  none  of  his  huntsmen  could 
follow  him.  When  it  was  evening,  he 
stopped  his  horse  and  looked  around  him, 
and  saw  that  he  had  lost  his  way.  He 
sought  everywhere  for  some  path  out  of 
the  wood,  but  all  in  vain.  At  length 
he  saw  an  old  woman,  with  a  shaking 
head,  coming  toward  him ;  but  she  was  a 
witch,  you  must  know.  The  king  accost- 
ed her,  and  said,  "  My  good  woman,  can 
you  show  me  the  way  out  of  the  wood  ? " 


62  The  Six  8 wans. 

"  Oh  yes,  sir  king,"  answered  she,  "  I  can 
easily  show  you  the  way,  but  only  upon 
one  condition ;  and  if  you  do  not  agree 
to  it,  you'll  never  again  get  out  of  the 
wood,  and  must  die  here  with  hunger." 
"  What  is  the  condition  ?  "  asked  the 
king.  "  I  have  a  daughter,"  said  the  old 
woman,  "  who  is  so  beautiful,  that  her 
like  is  not  to  be  found  in  the  world,  and 
who  is  well  worthy  to  be  your  wife  ;  if 
you  will  marry  her  and  make  her  your 
queen,  I  will  show  you  the  way  out  of 
the  wood." 

The  king,  in  the  trouble  of  his  heart, 
consented,  and  the  old  woman  led  him 
to  her  cottage,  where  her  daughter  was 
sitting  by  the  fireside.     She  received  the 


The  Six   Swans.  63 

king  as  if  she  had  expected  him,  and  he 
saw  that  she  was  very  beautiful ;  never- 
theless she  did  not  please  him,  and  he 
could  not  look  at  her  without  a  secret 
dislike.  When  the  king  had  lifted  the 
maiden  upon  his  horse,  he  placed  her 
behind  him,  the  old  woman  showed  him 
the  way,  and  at  length  the  king  reached 
his  palace,  where  the  marriage  was  cele- 
brated. 

The  king  had  been  married  once  be- 
fore, and  his  first  wife  had  brought  him 
seven  children,  six  boys  and  a  little  girl, 
whom  he  loved  more  than  the  whole 
world  besides.  Now  .he  feared  lest  their 
stepmother  should  not  treat  them  well, 
and  that  she  might  do  them  some  harm ; 


64  The  Six  Swans. 

so  he  took  them  secretly  to  a  lonely 
castle,  which  stood  in  the  midst  of  a 
wood.  It  lay  so  hidden,  and  the  path  to 
it  was  so  hard  to  find,  that  the  king  him- 
self would  not  have  made  it  out,  had  not 
a  wise  woman  given  him  a  clew  of  thread 
of  wonderful  power :  when  he  threw  it 
on  the  ground,  it  unwound  of  itself,  ran 
before  and  showed  him  the  way.  But 
the  king  went  so  often  to  visit  his  dear 
children,  that  the  queen  began  to  won- 
der at  the  cause  of  his  absence  ;  she  was 
full  of  prying  curiosity,  and  could  not 
be  easy  until  she  knew  what  he  did  all 
alone  in  the  wood.  Then  she  gave  his 
servants  gold  and  silver,  and  they  re- 
vealed to  her  the  secret,  and  told  her  of 


■•»- 


The  Six  Swans.  65 

the  clew  of  thread  which,  could  show  the 
way. 

The  queen  had  now  no  rest  until  she 
had  found  out  where  the  king  kept  the 
clew.  Then  she  made  some  little  shirts 
of  white  silk ;  and,  as  she  had  learnt  the 
fairy  art  from  her  mother,  she  sewed 
into  them  a  magical  charm. 

And  one  day,  when  the  king  was 
gone  out  a-hunting,  she  took  the  little 
shirts,  and  went  into  the  wood,  and  the 
clew  of  thread  showed  her  the  way.  The 
little  boys,  who  from  afar  off  saw  some 
one  coming,  thought  it  must  be  their 
dear  father,  and  ran  joyfully  to  meet 
him.  Then  the  queen  threw  one  of  the 
little  shirts  over  each  of  them;  and  as 


66  The  Six  Swa 


718 


soon  as  it  touched  their  bodies,  they 
were  changed  into  swans,  and  flew  away- 
over  the  wood.  The  queen  returned 
home  in  high  glee,  and  thought  she  was 
now  rid  of  her  stepchildren.  But  the 
little  girl  had  not  run  out  with  her 
brothers,  and  the  queen  knew  nothing 
of  her  being  in  the  wood. 

The  next  day  the  king  came  to 
the  castle,  to  visit  his  children ;  but 
he  found  the  little  maiden  all  alone. 
"  Where  are  thy  brothers  ?  "  asked  the 
king.  "  Alas !  dear  father,"  she  answer- 
ed, "  they  are  gone  away,  and  have  left 
me  all  alone."  Then  she  told  him  that 
she  had  seen  from  the  window  how  her 
brothers  had  been  changed  into  swans. 


The  Six  Swans.  67 

and  had  flown  away  over  the  wood  ;  and 
she  showed  him  the  feathers  they  had 
let  fall  in  the  courtvard,  and  which  she 
had  picked  up.  The  king  was  very  sad, 
but  he  could  not  think  that  the  queen 
had  done  such  a  wicked  deed ;  and,  fear- 
ing that  the  little  maiden  would  also  be 
stolen  away,  he  wished  to  take  her  with 
him.  But  she  had  a  great  dread  of  her 
stepmother,  and  begged  the  king  to  let 
her  stay  one  night  longer  in  the  castle. 

Then  the  poor  little  maiden  thought 
to  herself,  "  I  can  no  longer  stay  here ; 
I  will  go  and  seek  my  brothers."  And 
when  night  came  on,  she  ran  away, 
and  went  straight  into  the  wood.  She 
rambled  the  whole  night  through   the. 


68  The   Six  Swans. 



wood,  and  the  next  clay  also,  until  she 
was  ready  to  drop  from  fatigue  and 
could  go  no  further.  Then  she  came  to 
a  lonely  cottage ;  so  she  went  up  the 
stairs,  and  found  a  room  with  six  little 
beds  in  it.  She  did  not,  however,  dare 
to  lie  down  in  any  of  them,  but  crept 
under  one  and  laid  herself  upon  the 
hard  floor,  to  rest  for  the  night. 

Not  long  afterward,  as  the  sun  was 
going  down,  she  heard  a  rustling  noise, 
and  saw  six  swans  come  flying  in  at  the 
window.  They  seated  themselves  on 
the  ground,  blew  upon  one  another,  and 
blew  all  the  feathers  off  them,  and  stript 
off  their  swan's  skin  like  a  shirt.  Then  the 
little  maiden  looked  earnestly  at  them, 


$, 

The   Six   Swans.  69 

and  knew  them  to  be  her  brothers ; 
whereat  her  heart  leaped  with  joy,  and 
she  crept  forth  from  under  the  bed. 
The  brothers  were  no  less  rejoiced  when 
they  beheld  her,  but  their  joy  did  not 
last  long.  "  Thou  canst  not  stay  here," 
said  they  ;  "  this  is  a  house  of  robbers, 
and  when  they  come  home  and  find  thee 
here,  they  will  kill  thee."  "But  cannot 
you  protect  me  ?  "  asked  the  little  sister. 
"  No,"  answered  they ;  "  we  can  only 
put  off  our  swan's  skin  for  a  quarter  of 
an  hour  every  evening,  and  during  this 
time  we  have  our  natural  form  ;  but  then 
we  are  changed  again  into  swans."  The 
little  sister  wept,  and  said,  "  But  cannot 
you  get  free  ?  "  "  Alas  !  no,"  answered 
# — <$> 


<£> 

70  The  Six  Swans. 

they ;  "  the  conditions  are  too  hard  ;  for 
six  whole  years  thou  must  neither  speak 
nor  laugh,  and  in  that  time  must  sew  for 
us  six  little  shirts  of  star-flowers.  If  a 
single  word  falls  from  thy  tongue,  all  the 
labor  is  lost."  And  when  they  had  so 
said,  the  quarter  of  an  hour  was  past, 
and  they  were  changed  into  swans  again 
and  flew  away  out  of  the  window. 

But  the  little  maiden  thought  in  her 
heart  that  she  would  set  her  brothers 
free,  even  if  it  should  cost  her  her  life. 
So  the  next  morning  she  went  out, 
plucked  a  basketful  of  star-flowers,  and 
be^an  to  sew.  She  could  not  talk  to 
any  one,  and  she  had  no  mind  to  laugh  ; 
so  she  sat   quietly  at   her  needle,  and 


# 

The  Six  Sioans.  71 

never  once  took  her  eyes  from  her  work. 
She  had  been  busied  thus  for  a  long- 
time, when  it  happened  that  the  king  of 
that  country  was  one  day  hunting  in  the 
wood,  and  his  huntsmen  came  to  a  tree 
in  which  the  little  maiden  was  sitting. 
Then  they  called  to  her,  and  said,  "  Who 
art  thou  ? "  But  she  gave  no  answer. 
"  Come  down  to  us,"  said  they ;  "  we 
will  do  thee  no  harm."  She  only  shook 
her  head.  But  as  they  went  on  teasing 
her  with  questions  she  threw  them  down 
her  golden  necklace,  thinking  that  would 
satisfy  them.  Yet  still  they  did  not 
leave  off;  so  she  threw  down  her  girdle, 
and,  when  this  also  was  of  no  use,  she 
nuug  them  her  garters,  and  one  thing 
# 


# 

72  Tli  e  Six  Swans. 

after  another,  all  that  she  could  spare, 
until  nothing  was  left  but  her  little  shift. 

But  the  huntsmen  were  not  to  be 
put  off  thus  ;  they  climbed  up  the  tree, 
lifted  the  maiden  down,  and  led  her  to 
the  king.  The  king  asked,  "Who  art 
thou  ?  what  wast  thou  doing  up  in  the 
tree  ? "  Still  she  did  not  answer.  Then 
he  asked  her  in  all  the  languages  he 
knew,  but  she  remained  dumb  as  a  fish. 
But  when  the  king  saw  how  beautiful 
she  was,  his  heart  was  moved,  and  he 
fell  deeply  in  love  with  her.  He  wrap- 
ped his  cloak  round  her,  set  her  upon 
his  horse,  and  brought  her  to  his  palace. 

Then  he  ordered  her  to  be  clothed 
in  a  rich  robe,  and  she  shone  in  her 
# 


# = — : m 

The  Six  Swans.  73 

beauty  like  the  bright  clay ;  but  not  a 
word  could  be  got  from  her.  The  king 
seated  her  by  his  side  at  table,  and  her 
modest  behavior  pleased  him  so  much 
that  he  said,  "  This  is  the  maiden  whom 
I  shall  marry,  and  none  other  in  the 
world ; "  and  a  few  days  afterward  the 
wedding  took  place. 

But  the  king  had  a  wicked  mother, 
who  was  very  angry  at  this  marriage, 
and  spoke  ill  of  the  young  queen.  "  Who 
knows  what  slut  this  is,  who  cannot 
speak  a  word  ? "  said  she :  "  truly  a  pretty 
wife  for  a  king !  " 

At  the  end  of  a  year,  when  the 
queen  brought  her  first  child  into  the 
world,  the  old  woman  took  it  away  from 
$ 


74  TJt  e  Six  Sw ans. 

her,  and  besmeared  the  floor  with  blood 
while  she  lay  asleep.  Then  she  went  to 
the  king,  and  made  a  complaint  that  the 
queen  was  an  ogress.  But  the  king 
could  not  believe  it,  and  would  not 
suffer  any  harm  to  be  done  to  her. 
Meanwhile  the  young  queen  sat  steadily 
at  her  work,  sewing  away  at  the  shirts, 
and  had  not  a  thought  for  anything  else. 
The  next  time,  when  the  queen  had 
a  fine  little  boy,  the  false  old  mother-in- 
law  practised  the  same  trick ;  but  still 
the  king  could  not  bring  himself  to  be- 
lieve her  story,  and  said,  "She  is  too 
good  and  gentle  to  be  capable  of  such  a 
thing ;  if  she  were  not  dumb,  and  could 
speak  for  herself,  her  innocence  would 
4- # 


The  Six  Stoans, 


conie  to  light."  But  a  third  time  the 
queen  had  a  little  child,  and  the  old 
woman  stole  it  away,  and  accused  the 
queen  as  before.  She  however  said  not 
a-  word  in  her  defence  ;  so  the  king  was 
obliged  to  give  her  up  to  be  judged  in 
the  court,  and  she  was  condemned  to 
die. 

When  the  day  came  on  which  the 
sentence  was  to  be  executed,  it  happened 
to  be  the  last  day  of  the  six  years  during 
which  she  was  neither  to  speak  nor  laugh. 
She  had  freed  her  dear  brothers  from 
the  power  of  the  spell ;  and  the  six  little 
shirts  were  all  ready  sewn,  except  that 
the  last  one  still  wanted  a  sleeve  for  the 
left  arm.      Now  when  she  was  led  out 


Y6  Tli  e   Si  x  Stoans. 

to  be  put  to  death,  she  hung  the  little 
shirts  upon  her  arm ;  and  just  as  she 
was  going  to  be  killed,  she  looked  up, 
and  there  came  six  swans  flying  through 
the  air.  Then  she  saw  that  her  deliver- 
ance was  near  at  hand,  and  her  heart 
beat  with  joy.  The  swans  flew  to  her, 
and  let  themselves  gently  down,  so  that 
she  could  throw  the  little  shirts  over 
them  ;  and  no  sooner  were  they  touched 
by  them,  than  the  swans'  skins  fell  off, 
and  her  brothers  stood  before  her  in 
their  natural  form,  fresh  and  handsome ; 
only  the  youngest  wanted  his  left  arm 
and  had  instead  a  swan's  wing  on  his 
shoulder.  Then  they  embraced  and 
kissed  one  another,  and  the  queen  went 
1 # 


# 


Tli e  Six  8 iv a n s .  77 

to  the  kinsr,  who  was  lost  in  amazement, 
and  opened  her  lips  and  said,  "  Dearest 
husband,  now  I  may  speak,  and  declare 
to  thee  that  I  am  innocent  and  falsely 
accused."  So  she  told  him  all  the  arts 
of  the  old  queen-mother,  who  had  taken 
away  her  three  children  and  hidden 
them.  Then  they  were  brought  back 
again,  to  the  great  joy  of  the  king,  and 
the  wicked  old  queen-mother  was  put  to 
death. — But  the  king  and  the  queen, 
with  her  six  brothers,  lived  many  years 
in  peace  and  happiness. 


<•♦,- 


THE    WHITE    DOTE. 


THE    WHITE     DOVE. 

A  young  girl  was  once  riding  in  a 
coach  with  her  master  and  mistress 
through  a  large  wood ;  and  when  they 
came  to  the  middle  of  it,  a  band  of  rob- 
bers rushed  out  of  a  thicket,  and  killed 
all  whom  they  found.  Thus  all  were 
killed  except  the  maid,  who  had  jumped 
in  terror  out  of  the  coach  and  hidden 
herself  behind  a  tree. 

When  the  robbers  had  gone  off  with 
their  booty,  the  maid  came  out,  and  saw 
the  dreadful  deed  that  had  been  done. 
Then  she  fell    a- weeping   bitterly,   and 


-# 


#- 


82  The    White  Dove. 

said,  "  Alas  !  wliat  can  a  poor  girl  like 
me  do  ?  I  know  not  the  way  out  of  the 
wood,  and  shall  die  of  hunger."  Then 
jshe  wandered  about,  seeking  a  path,  but 
she  could  find  none. 

When  it  was  evening,  she  set  herself 
down  under  a  tree,  and  made  up  her 
mind  to  remain  there,  and  not  to  go 
away,  happen  what  might.  But  after 
she  had  been  sitting  there  for  some  time, 
a  little  white  dove  came  flying  to  her, 
with  a  small  golden  key  in  its  bill.  Then 
it  dropped  the  key  into  the  girl's  hand, 
and  said,  "  Do  you  see  yonder  large  tree  ? 
on  its  side  is  a  little  rock  ;  open  it  with 
this  key,  and  you  will  find  plenty  of 
food,  and  will  no  longer  suffer  hunger." 
<§> 


The    White  Dove.  83 

Then  the  girl  went  to  the  tree  and 
opened  it,  and  found  some  milk  in  a 
little  dish,  and  a  loaf  of  white  bread ;  so 
she  had  now  plenty  to  eat  and  to  drink. 
And  when  she  had  eaten  her  fill,  she 
said,  "The  hens  at  home  are  all  now 
going  to  roost ;  ah  me  !  I  am  so  tired, — 
could  I  but  also  lie  down  in  my  bed  ! " 

Then  the  little  dove  came  flying  to 
her  again,  and  brought  another  golden 
key  in  its  bill,  and  said,  "  Open  the  tree, 
and  you  will  find  in  it  a  bed."  So  she 
unlocked  the  tree,  and  found  a  beautiful 
soft  little  bed  ;  then  she  said  her  prayers, 
lay  down,  and  soon  fell  asleep. 

The  next  morning  the  dove  came  a 
third  time,  brought  again  a  little  key, 


84  The    White  Dove. 

and  said,  "  Open  the  tree,  and  you  will 
find  in  it  a  dress/'  And  when  the  girl 
unlocked  the  tree,  sure  enough  there  she 
found  a  beautiful  dress,  trimmed  with 
gold  and  precious  stones,  more  splendid 
than  any  king's  daughter  ever  had.  So 
she  lived  in  the  wood  for  some  time,  and 
the  dove  came  every  day,  and  took  care 
to  provide  all  she  wTanted. 

But  one  day  the  little  dove  came, 
and  said,  "  Will  you  do  me  a  kindness  ? " 
"  With  all  my  heart,"  answered  the 
maiden.  Then  the  dove  said,  "  I  will 
take  you  to  a  cottage ;  go  into  it,  and 
you  will  see  an  old  woman  sitting  on  the 
hearth,  who  will  bid  you  good  day.  But 
for  your  life's  sake  do  not  answer,  what- 


The    White  Dove.  85 

ever  she  may  say  or  do.  Go  past  her  on 
the  right  hand,  and  there  you  will  see  a 
door  ;  open  it,  and  you  will  come  into  a 
little  chamber,  where  a  large  heap  of 
rings  of  all  sorts  are  lying  on  the  table. 
Amongst  them  are  splendid  rings  with 
glittering  stones ;  but  let  them  lie,  and 
seek  out  a  plain  ring,  which  is  amongst 
the  rest,  and  bring  it  to  me  here  as  fast 
as  you  can.'' 

Then  the  maiden  went  to  the  cottage. 
There  sat  an  old  woman,  who  stared 
when  she  saw  the  girl,  and  said,  "  Good 
day,  my  child  ! "  But  the  maiden  gave 
no  answer,  and  went  straight  past  her 
up  to  the  door.  "  Whither  so  fast  ? " 
cried  the  old  woman :  and  she  seized  her 


86  The    White  Dove. 

by  the  gown,  and  tried  to  hold  her  back. 
"  This  is  my  house,  and  nobody  can 
come  into  it  without  my  leave."  The 
maiden  however  never  opened  her  lips, 
but  got  away  from  the  old  woman,  and 
went  into  the  chamber.  And  there  lay 
a  great  heap  of  rings  upon  the  table, 
which  glittered  and  quite  dazzled  her 
eyes ;  then  she  looked  and  looked  every- 
where amongst  them  for  the  plain  ring, 
but  could  not  find  it. 

As  she  was  busily  searching  for  the 
ring,  she  saw  the  old  woman  sneaking 
off  with  a  birdcage  in  her  hand,  and  try- 
ing to  make  her  escape.  So  the  girl  ran 
up  to  her,  and  took  the  cage  out  of  her 
hand;  and  when  she  lifted  it  up,  and 


The    White  Dove.  Si 

peeped  into  it,  there  sat  a  bird  with  a 
plain  ring  in  its  bill.  Then  she  took  the 
ring,  and  ran  out  with  it  in  great  joy, 
thinking  that  the  little  white  dove  would 
come  and  fetch  it,  but  it  came  not. 

So  the  maiden  leaned  against  a  tree, 
waiting  for  the  dove ;  and  as  she  stood 
thus,  the  tree  seemed  to  her  to  grow  soft 
and  flexible,  and  to  let  down  its  boughs. 
All  at  once  the  branches  wound  them- 
selves around  her,  and  behold  they  were 
two  arms  !  And  when  she  looked 
around,  the  tree  was  a  handsome  young 
man,  who  embraced  and  kissed  her  ten- 
derly, and  said,  "  I  am  a  king's  son,  and 
thou  hast  freed  me  from  the  power  of 
the  old  woman,  who  is  a  wicked  fairy. 

# 


88  The    White  Dove. 

She  had  changed  me  into  a  tree,  but 
every  day  for  two  hours  I  was  a  white 
dove;  and  as  long  as  the  old  woman 
had  the  ring  I  could  never  regain  my 
proper  form." 

Then  his  servants  and  horses  were 
all  freed  from  the  spell,  and  were  no 
longer  trees.  So  the  king'  son  drove  off 
with  the  maiden  to  his  kingdom,  and 
they  were  married  forthwith,  and  lived 
long  and  happily. 


-<# 


DUMMLXNG  AND  THE  TOAD. 

Theee  was  once  a  king  who  had 
three  sons ;  two  of  whom  were  clever 
and  cunning,  but  the  third  son  spoke 
little,  was  almost  a  simpleton,  and  so  they 
called  him  Dummling.  Now  when  the 
king  was  grown  old,  he  bethought  him 
of  his  end,  but  he  did  not  know  to 
which  of  his  sons  he  should  leave  his 
kingdom.  So  one  day  he  called  them 
to  him  and  said,  "  Go  out  into  the  world, 
my  sons,  and  whoever  brings  me  the 
finest  carpet  shall  be  king  after  my 
death."    And  in  order  that  there  should 


92  Dummling  and 

be  no  quarrel,  he  led  them  out  before 
the  castle,  blew  three  feathers  into  the 
air,  and  said,  "  Whither  these  fly,  ye 
shall  hie."  One  feather  flew  toward  the 
east,  the  other  toward  the  west,  but  the 
third  flew  in  a  straight  line,  and  soon 
fell  to  the  ground.  So  the  eldest  brother 
went  his  way  to  the  right,  the  second 
to  the  left,  and  they  both  laughed  at 
Dummling,  who  had  to  stay  where  he 
was  upon  the  ground  with  the  third 
feather. 

Dummling  sat  himself  down  and  was 
sad  at  heart ;  when  all  on  a  sudden  he 
saw  a  little  door  in  the  ground  close  to 
the  feather.     He  opened  it,  and  found 

<$, 


The   Toad.  93 

three  steps,  down  which  he  went.  Then 
he  came  to  another  door,  at  which  he 
knocked;  and  he  heard  a  voice  from 
within  saying, 

"  Little  toad,  little  toad,  see  and  say, 
"Who  comes  this  way." 

Then  the  door  opened,  and  Dummling 
spied  a  great  fat  toad,  and  a  number  of 
little  toads  sitting  around  her.  The  fat 
toad  asked  Duinmlino;  what  his  business 
was,  and  he  answered,  "  I  want  to  find 
the  finest  and  most  beautiful  carpet  in 
the  world."  Then  the  old  toad  called  a 
young  one,  and  said, 

"  Little  toad,  little  toad,  hie  and  see, 
And  bring  my  box  of  treasures  to  me." 


94  D  u  m  m  I  i  n  g  and 

So  the  young  toad  hopped  off,  and  pres- 
ently brought  back  the  box.  The  fat 
old  toad  opened  the  box,  drew  out  a 
carpet,  finer  and  more  beautiful  than 
any  that  could  be  woven  in  the  loom, 
and  gave  it  to  Dummling.  Then  Dumm- 
ling  thanked  her  and  went  his  way. 

Now  the  other  brothers  had  thought 
Dummling  too  great  a  simpleton  to 
find  any  carpet  to  compare  with  theirs, 
and  said  one  to  the  other,  "  Why  need 
we  trouble  ourselves  with  seeking  ?  "  So 
they  took  from  the  first  shepherd's  wife 
whom  they  met  the  coarse  shawl  she  had 
on,  and  brought  it  to  the  kin £.  Present- 
ly  came  Dummling  also,  with  his  beauti- 
ful carpet ;  and  when  the  king  saw  it  he 


The   Toad.  95 


was  amazed,  and  said,  a  The   kingdom 
shall  belong  to  my  youngest  son." 

But  the  two  elder  brothers  let  the 
king  have  no  rest,  telling  him  that  it 
was  not  possible  for  Dummling  to  be 
king,  and  they  begged  him  to  grant 
them  another  trial.  Then  the  king  said, 
"  He  shall  have  the  kingdom  who  brings 
me  the  most  beautiful  ring."  And  so 
saying  he  took  the  brothers  into  the 
courtyard,  blew  the  three  feathers  again 
into  the  air,  and  bid  them  go  their  ways. 
Then  the  two  eldest  brothers  went  forth 
toward  the  east  and  west,  and  Dumm- 
ling's  feather  again  flew  straight  for- 
ward, and  fell  close  to  the  little  door  in 
the  ground.     So  Dummling  went  down 


96  Dummling   and 

the  steps  to  the  fat  toad,  and  told  her 
that  he  was  in  search  of  the  finest  ring 
in  the  world.  The  toad  ordered  her 
large  box  to  be  brought,  and  took  out 
of  it  a  ring,  which  was  finer  than  any 
goldsmith  could  make,  and  gave  it  to 
Dummling. 

Now  the  two  eldest  brothers  had 
laughed  at  the  idea  of  Dummling's  seek- 
ing for  a  gold  ring  ;  and  they  gave  them- 
selves no  thought  or  trouble,  but  took 
the  first  cartwheels  they  met  with,  ham- 
mered the  nails  out  of  the  iron  hoops, 
and  took  them  to  the  king.  But  as 
soon  as  Dummling  came  and  pulled  out 
his  gold  ring,  the  king  said,  "  The  king- 
dom must  belong  to  Dummling." 


The    Toad.  97 


The  two  eldest  brothers,  however, 
were  not  yet  satisfied,  and  they  plagued 
the  king  until  he  gave  them  another 
trial.  So  at  last  the  king  said,  that  who- 
ever should  bring  him  the  most  beautiful 
wife  should  have  the  crown:  then  he 
blew  the  three  feathers  again  into  the 
air,  and  they  flew  away  as  before. 

Dummling  went  a  third  time  to  his 
old  friend  the  toad,  and  said,  "  I  must 
now  find  the  handsomest  wife  in  the 
world,  and  take  her  home  with  me." 
"  The  handsomest  wife,  indeed  !  "  answer- 
ed the  toad  ;  "  well,  you  shall  have  her 
in  a  trice.'1  And  so  saying,  she  gave 
him  a  large  turnip,  with  six  little  mice 
harnessed   to    draw   it.     "  Alas ! "    said 


98  Du  m  m  I  i  n  g   a  n  d 

Duumiling  with  a  sigli,  "  what  can  I  do 
with  a  turnip  ? "  "  Do  what  I  bid  you," 
replied  the  old  toad  ;  "now  take  one  of 
my  little  toads  and  place  her  in  the  tur- 
nip." So  Duminling  took  up  one  of  the 
toads,  as  they  sat  in  a  ring,  and  placed  it 
in  the  turnip ;  but  hardly  had  he  done  so 
when  the  toad  was  changed  into  a  beauti- 
ful maiden,  the  turnip  into  a  handsome 
coach,  and  the  six  little  mice  into  fine 
prancing  horses.  Then  Duminling  hand- 
ed the  little  lady  into  the  coach,  and 
brought  her  to  the  king. 

The  other  brothers  came  just  at  the 
same  time ;  they  had  meanwhile  not 
troubled  themselves  about  Dummling's 
chance  of  finding  a  wife,  but  had  taken 


The   Toad.'  99 

the  first  country  girls  they  met  on  the 
road,  and  brought  them  home.  Then 
the  king  said  again,  "  The  kingdom  shall 
belong  to  Dummling  after  my  death." 

Nevertheless  the  two  eldest  brothers 
began  to  bluster  anew,  and  said,  "No, 
no,  this  must  not  and  cannot  be."  So 
they  proposed,  that  he  should  have  the 
crown  whose  wife  could  leap  through  a 
ring  which  hung  in  the  middle  of  the 
hall ;  for  they  thought  to  themselves, 
u  Our  lasses  are  stout  and  strong,  and 
can  jump  through  easily  enough ;  but 
this  delicate  little  creature  will  kill  her- 
self if  she  tries  to  leap."  And  at  last 
the  king  consented  ;  whereupon  the  two 
country   wenches   made    a    spring   and 


100     Dummling  and  the  Toad. 

leaped  through  the  ring ;  but  being 
plump  and  clumsy,  they  fell  to  the 
ground  and  broke  their  arms  and  legs. 
Then  the  beautiful  little  lady  whom 
Dummling  had  brought  bounded  grace- 
fully through  the  ring,  and  gained  the 
kingdom  for  Dummling ;  and  when  the 
old  king  died,  Dummling  received  the 
crown,  and  ruled  the  kingdom  well  and 
wisely. 


THE    FOX'S    BEUSH.   r 

The  King  of  the  East  had  a  beautiful 
garden,  and  in  the  garden  stood  a  tree 
that  bore  golden  apples.  Lest  any  of 
these  apples  should  be  stolen,  they  were 
always  counted ;  but  about  the  time 
when  they  began  to  grow  ripe,  it  was 
found  that  every  night  one  of  them  was 
gone.  The  king  became  very  angry  at 
this,  and  told  the  gardener  to  keep  a 
watch  under  the  tree  all  night. 

The  gardener  set  his  eldest  son  to 
watch,  but  about  twelve  o'clock  he  fell 


104         The  Fox's  Brush. 

asleep,  and  in  the  morning  another  of  the 
apples  was  missing. 

Then  the  second  son  was  set  to  watch, 
and  at  midnight  he  too  fell  asleep,  and 
in  the  morning  another  apple  was  gone. 

Then  the  third  son  offered  to  keep 
watch  ;  but  the  gardener  at  first  would 
not  let  him,  for  fear  some  harm  should 
come  to  him.  However,  at  last  he 
yielded,  and  the  young  man  laid  himself 
under  the  tree  to  watch.  As  the  clock 
struck  twelve  he  heard  a  rustling  noise 
in  the  air,  and  a  bird  came  flying  and 
sat  upon  the  tree.  This  bird's  feathers 
were  all  of  pure  gold :  and  as  it  was 
snapping  at  one  of  the  apples  with  its 
beak,  the  gardener's  son  jumped  up  and 

4 


The  Fox's   Brush.        105 

shot  an  arrow  at  it.  The  arrow,  how- 
ever, did  the  bird  no  harm,  it  only  drop- 
ped a  golden  feather  from  its  tail,  and 
flew  away.  The  golden  feather  was  then 
brought  to  the  king  in  the  morning,  and 
all  his  court  were  called  together.  Every 
one  agreed  that  it  was  the  most  beauti- 
ful thing  that  had  ever  been  seen,  and 
that  it  was  worth  more  than  all  the 
wealth  of  the  kingdom :  but  the  king 
said,  "  One  feather  is  of  no  use  to  me, 
I  must  and  will  have  the  whole  bird." 

Then  the  gardener's  eldest  son  set  out 
to  find  this  golden  bird,  and  thought  to 
find  it  very  easily ;  and  when  he  had 
gone  but  a  little  way,  he  came  to  a  wood, 
and  by  the  side  of  the  wood  he  saw  a 


106         The  Fox's  Brush. 

fox  sitting.  The  lad  was  fond  of  a  little 
sporting,  so  he  took  his  bow  and  made 
ready  to  shoot  at  it.  Then  Mr.  Reynard, 
who  saw  what  he  was  about,  and  did  not 
like  the  thoughts  of  being  shot  at,  cried 
out,  "  Softly,  softly !  do  not  shoot  me  ; 
I  can  give  you  good  counsel.  I  know 
what  your  business  is,  and  that  you  want 
to  find  the  golden  bird.  You  will  reach 
a  village  in  the  evening,  and  when  you 
get  there  you  will  see  two  inns,  built 
one  on  each  side  of  the  street.  The  right- 
hand  one  is  very  pleasant  and  beautiful  to 
look  at,  but  go  not  in  there.  Rest  for  the 
night  in  the  other,  though  it  may  seem 
to  you  very  poor  and  mean."  "  What 
can  such  a  beast  as  this  know  about  the 

# $ 


The  Fox's  Brush. 


matter  ?  "  thought  the  silly  lad  to  him- 
self. So  he  shot  his  arrow  at  the  fox, 
but  he  missed  it,  and  it  only  laughed  at 
him,  set  up  its  tail  above  its  back,  and 
ran  into  the  wood. 

The  young  man  went  his  way,  and  in 
the  evening  came  to  the  village  where 
the  two  inns  were.  In  the  right  hand 
one  were  people  singing,  and  dancing, 
and  feasting  ;  but  the  other  looked  very 
dirty,  and  poor.  "I  should  be  very 
silly,"  said  he,  "  if  I  went  to  that  shabby 
house,  and  left  this  charming  place : " 
so  he  went  into  the  smart  house,  and  ate 
and  drank  at  his  ease;  and  there  he 
stayed,  and  forgot  the  bird  and  his  coun- 
try too. 
# 


-\ 


108         The  Fox's  Brush. 

Time  passed  on,  and  as  the  eldest  son 
did  not  come  back,  and  no  tidings  were 
heard  of  him,  the  second  son  set  out, 
and  the  same  thing  happened  to  him. 
He  met  with  the  fox  sitting  by  the  road- 
side, who  gave  him  the  same  good  advice 
as  he  had  given  his  brother :  bnt  when 
he  came  to  the  two  inns,  his  eldest 
brother  was  standing  at  the  window 
where  the  merry-making  was,  and  called 
to  him  to  come  in ;  and  he  could  not 
withstand  the  temptation,  but  went  in, 
joined  the  merry  making,  and  there  for- 
got the  golden  bird  and  his  country  in 
the  same  manner. 

Time  passed  on  again,  and  the  young- 
est son  too  wished  to  set  out  into  the  wide 


Tie  Fox's  Brush.        109 

world,  to  seek  for  the  golden  bird  ;  but 
his  father  would  not  listen  to  him  for  a 
long  while,  for  he  was  very  fond  of  his 
son,  and  was  afraid  that  some  ill-luck 
might  happen  to  him  also,  and  hinder 
his  coming  back.  However,  at  last  it 
was  agreed  he  should  go ;  for,  to  tell 
the  truth,  he  would  not  rest  at  home. 
As  he  came  to  the  wood  he  met  the  fox, 
who  gave  him  the  same  good  counsel 
that  he  had  given  the  other  brothers. 
But  he  was  thankful  to  the  fox,  and  did 
not  shoot  at  him,  as  his  brothers  had 
clone.  Then  the  fox  said,  "  Sit  upon  my 
tail,  and  you  will  travel  faster."  So  he 
sat  clown:  and  the  fox  began  to  run, 
and  away  they  went   over   stock    and 


■f 


110         The  Fox's  Brush. 

stone,  so  quickly  that  their  hair  whistled 
in  the  wind. 

When  they  came  to  the  village,  the 
young  man  was  wise  enough  to  follow 
the  fox's  counsel,  and  without  looking 
about  him,  went  straight  to  the  shabby 
ino,  and  rested  there  all  niofht  at  his 
ease.  In  the  morning  came  the  fox 
again,  and  met  him  as  he  was  beginning 
his  journey,  and  said,  "  Go  straight  for- 
ward till  you  come  to  a  castle,  before 
which  lie  a  whole  troop  of  soldiers  fast 
asleep  and  snoring;  take  no  notice  of 
them,  but  go  into  the  castle,  and  pass 
on  and  on  till  you  come  to  a  room 
where  the  golden  bird  sits  in  a  wooden 
cage  :  close  by  it  stands  a  beautiful  gold- 


The  Fox's  Brush.        Ill 

en  cage;  but  do  not  try  to  take  the 
bird  out  of  the  shabby  cage  and  put  it 
into  the  handsome  one,  otherwise  you 
will  be  sorry  for  it."  Then  the  fox 
stretched  out  his  brush  again,  and  the 
young  man  sat  himself  down,  and  away 
they  went  over  stock  and  stone,  till 
their  hair  whistled  in  the  wind. 

Before  the  castle  gate  all  was  as  the 
fox  had  said :  so  the  lad  went  in,  and 
found  the  chamber,  where  the  golden 
bird  hung  in  a  wooden  cage.  Below 
stood  the  *  golden  cage;  and  the  three 
golden  apples,  that  had  been  lost,  were 
lying  close  by  its  side.  Then  he  thought 
to  himself,  "  It  will  be  a  very  droll  thing 
to  bring  away  such  a  fine  bird  in  this 


112         The  Fox's  Brush. 

shabby  cage ;  so  he  opened  the  door  and 
took  hold  of  the  bird,  and  put  it  into 
the  golden  cage.  But  it  set  up  at  once 
such  a  loud  scream,  that  all  the  soldiers 
awoke  ;  and  they  took  him  prisoner,  and 
carried  him  before  the  king. 

The  next  morning  the  court  sat  to 
judge  him  ;  and  when  all  was  heard,  it 
doomed  him  to  die,  unless  he  should 
bring  the  king  the  golden  horse,  that 
could  run  as  swiftly  as  the  wind.  If  he 
did  this  he  was  to  have  the  golden  bird 
given  him  for  his  own. 

So  he  set  out  once  more  on  his  jour- 
ney, sighing,  and  in  great  despair ;  when 
on  a  sudden,  he  met  his  good  friend  the 
fox  taking  his  morning's  walk.     "  Hey- 


The  Fox's  Brush.         113 

day,  young  gentleman !  "  said  Keynard ; 
"  you  see  now  what  has  happened  from 
your  not  listening  to  my  advice.  I  will 
still,  however,  tell  you  how  you  may 
find  the  golden  horse,  if  you  will  but  do 
as  I  bid  you.  You  must  go  straight  on 
till  you  come  to  the  castle  where  the 
horse  stands  in  his  stall.  By  his  side 
will  lie  the  groom  fast  asleep  and  snor- 
ing ;  take  away  the  horse  softly ;  but 
be  sure  to  let  the  old  leathern  saddle  be 
upon  him,  and  do  not  put  on  the  golden 
one  that  is  close  by."  Then  the  young 
man  sat  down  on  the  fox's  tail ;  and 
away  they  went  over  stock  and  stone, 
till  their  hair  whistled  in  the  wind. 

All  went  right,  and  the  groom  lay 

# 


114         The  Fox's  Brush. 

snoring,  with  his  hand  upon  the  golden 
saddle.  But  when  the  lad  looked  at 
the  horse,  he  thought  it  a  great  pity  to 
keep  the  leathern  saddle  upon  it.  "  I 
will  give  him  the  good  one,"  said  he : 
"I  am  sure  he  is  worth  it."  As  he  took 
up  the  golden  saddle,  the  groom  awoke, 
and  cried  out  so  loud,  that  all  the  guards 
ran  in  and  took  him  prisoner ;  and  in 
the  morning  he  was  brought  before  the 
king's  court  to  be  judged,  and  was  once 
more  doomed  to  die.  But  it  was  agreed 
that  if  he  could  bring  thither  the  beauti- 
ful princess,  he  should  live,  and  have  the 
horse  given  him  for  his  own. 

Then  he  went  his  way  again  very  sor- 
rowful :  but  the  old  fox  once  more  met 


The  Fox's  Brush.         115 

him  on  the  road,  and  said,  "  Why  did 
you  not  listen  to  me  ?  If  you  had,  you 
would  have  carried  away  both  the  bird 
and  the  horse.  Yet  I  will  once  more 
give  you  counsel.  G-o  straight  on, 
and  in  the  evening  you  will  come  to  a 
castle.  A_t  twelve  o'clock  every  night 
the  princess  goes  to  the  bath :  go  up  to 
her  as  she  passes,  and  give  her  a  kiss, 
and  she  will  let  you  lead  her  away  ;  but 
take  care  you  do  not  let  her  go  and  take 
leave  of  her  father  and  mother."  Then 
the  fox  stretched  out  his  tail,  and  away 
they  went  over  stock  and  stone  till  their 
hair  whistled  again. 

As  they  came  to  the  castle  all  was  as 
the  fox  had  said :  and  at  twelve  o'clock 


116         The  Fox's  Brush. 

the  young  roan  met  the  princess  going 
to  the  bath,  and  gave  her  the  kiss ;  and 
she  agreed  to  run  away  with  him,  but 
begged  with  many  tears  that  he  would 
let  her  take  leave  of  her  father.  At  first 
he  said,  "  No  !  "  but  she  wept  still  more 
and  more,  and  fell  at  his  feet,  till  at  last 
he  yielded ;  but  the  moment  she  came 
to  her  father's  door  the  guards  awoke, 
and  he  was  taken  prisoner  again. 

So  he  was  brought  at  once  before  the 
king,  who  lived  in  that  castle.  And  the 
king  said,  "You  shall  never  have  my 
daughter,  unless  in  eight  days  you  dig 
away  the  hill  that  stops  the  view  from 
my  window."  Now  this  hill  was  so  big 
that  all  the  men  in  the  whole  world  could 


The  Fox's  Brush.         Ill 

not  have  taken  it  away:  and  when  he 
had  worked  for  seven  days,  and  had  done 
very  little,  the  fox  came  and  said,  "  Lie 
down  and  go  to  sleep !  I  will  work  for 
you."  In  the  morning  he  awoke,  and 
the  hill  was  gone  ;  so  he  went  merrily 
to  the  king,  and  told  him  that  now  it 
was  gone  he  must  give  him  the  princess. 

Then  the  king  was  obliged  to  keep 
his  word,  and  away  went  the  young  man 
and  the  princess.  But  the  fox  came  and 
said  to  him,  "  That  will  not  do ;  we  will 
have  all  three, — the  princess,  the  horse, 
and  the  bird."  "  Ah  !  "  said  the  young 
man,  "  that  would  be  a  great  thing  ;  but 
how  can  it  be  ? " 

"  If  you  will  only  listen,"  said  the  fox, 


118-        The  Fox's  Brush. 

"  it  can  soon  be  done.  When  you  come 
to  the  king  of  the  castle  where  the  golden 
horse  is,  and  he  asks  for  the  beautiful 
princess,  you  must  say,  '  Here  she  is ! ' 
Then  he  will  be  very  glad  to  see  her, 
and  will  run  to  welcome  her ;  and  you 
will  mount  the  golden  horse  that  they 
are  to  give  you,  and  put  out  your  hand 
to  take  leave  of  them ;  but  shake  hands 
with  the  princess  last.  Then  lift  her 
quickly  on  to  the  horse,  behind  you; 
clap  your  spurs  to  his  side,  and  gallop 
away  as  fast  as  you  can." 

All  went  right :  .then  the  fox  said, 
"  When  you  come  to  the  castle  where 
the  bird  is,  I  will  stay  with  the  princess 
at  the  door,  and  you  will  ride  in  and 


# 

The  Fox's  Brush.         119 

speak  to  the  king ;  and  when  he  sees 
that  it  is  the  right  horse,  he  will  bring 
out  the  bird :  but  you  mast  sit  still,  and 
say  that  you  want  to  look  at  it,  to  see 
whether  it  is  the  true  golden  bird  or 
not ;  and  when  you  get  it  into  your 
hand,  ride  away  as  fast  as  you  can." 

This,  too,  happened  as  the  fox  said  : 
they  carried  off  the  bird ;  the  princess 
mounted  again,  and  off  they  rode  till 
they  came  to  a  great  wood.  On  their 
way  through  it  they  met  their  old  friend 
Reynard  again ;  and  he  said,  "  Pray  kill 
me,  and  cut  off  my  head  and  my  brush  !  " 
The  young  man  would  not  do  any  such 
thing  to  so  good  a  friend:  so  the  fox 
said,  u  I  will  at  any  rate  give  you  good 


120         The  Fox's  Brush. 

counsel :  beware  of  two  things  !  ransom 
no  one  from  the  gallows,  and  sit  down 
by  the  side  of  no  brook !  "  Then  away 
he  went.  "Well,"  thought  the  young 
man,  "  it  is  no  hard  matter,  at  any  rate, 
to  follow  that  advice." 

So  he  rode  on  with  the  princess,  till 
at  last  they  came  to  the  village  where 
he  had  left  his  two  brothers.  And  there 
he  heard  a  great  noise  and  uproar :  and 
when  he  asked  what  was  the  matter,  the 
people  said,  "Two  rogues  are  going  to 
be  hanged."  As  he  came  nearer,  he  saw 
that  the  two  men  were  his  brothers,  who 
had  turned  robbers.  At  the  sight  of 
them  in  this  sad  plight  his  heart  was 
very  heavy,  and  he  cried  out,  "  Can  noth- 


The  Fox's  Brush.         121 

ing  save  them  from  such  a  death  ?  "  but 
the  people  said  "  No  !  "  unless  he  would 
bestow  all  his  money  upon  the  rascals, 
and  buy  their  freedom,  by  repaying  all 
they  had  stolen.  Then  he  did  not  stay 
to  think  about  it,  but  paid  whatever  was 
asked  ;  and  his  brothers  were  given  up, 
and  went  on  with  him  toward  their 
father's  home. 

Now  the  weather  was  very  hot ;  and 
as  they  came  to  the  wood  where  the  fox 
first  met  them,  they  found  it  so  cool  and 
shady  under  the  trees,  by  the  side  of  a 
brook  that  ran  close  by,  that  the  two 
brothers  said,  "  Let  us  sit  down  by  the 
side  of  this  brook  and  rest  a  while,  to 
eat  and  drink."     a  Very  well !  "  said  he, 


122         The  Fox's  Brush. 

and  he  forgot  what  the  fox  had  said,  and 
sat  down  on  the  side  of  the  brook :  and 
while  he  thought  of  no  harm  coming  to 
him  they  crept  behind  him,  and  threw 
him  down  the  bank,  and  took  the  prin- 
cess, the  horse,  and  the  bird,  and  went 
home  to  the  king  their  master,  and  said, 
"All  these  we  have  won  by  our  own 
skill  and  strength."  Then  there  was 
great  merriment  made,  and  the  king 
held  a  feast,  and  the  two  brothers  were 
welcomed  home;  but  the  horse  would 
not  eat,  the  bird  would  not  sing,  and  the 
princess  sat  by  herself  in  her  chamber, 
and  wept  bitterly. 

The  youngest  son  fell  to  the  bottom 
of  the  bed  of  the  stream.     Luckily,  it 


The  Fox's  Brush.         123 

was  nearly  dry,  but  his  bones  were 
almost  broken,  and  the  bank  was  so 
steep  that  he  could  find  no  way  to  get 
out.  As  he  stood  bewailing  his  fate, 
and  thinking  what  he  should  do,  to  his 
great  joy  he  spied  his  old  and  faithful 
friend  the  fox,  looking  down  from  the 
bank  upon  him.  Then  Reynard  scolded 
him  for  not  following  his  advice,  which 
would  have  saved  him  from  all  the 
troubles  that  had  befallen  him.  "  Yet," 
said  he,  "  silly  as  you  have  been,  I  can- 
not bear  to  leave  you  here ;  so  lay  hold 
of  my  brush,  and  hold  fast !  "  Then  he 
pulled  him  out  of  the  river,  and  said  to 
him,  as  he  got  upon  the  bank,  "Your 
brothers  have  set  a  watch  to  kill  you  if 


124         The  Fox's  Brush. 

they  find  you  making  your  way  back." 
So  lie  dressed  himself  as  a  poor  piper, 
and  came  playing  on  his  pipe  to  the 
king's  court.  But  he  was  scarcely  with- 
in the  gate  when  the  horse  began  to  eat, 
and  the  bird  to  sing,  and  the  princess 
left  off  weeping.  And  when  he  got  to 
the  great  hall,  where  all  the  court  sat 
feasting,  he  went  straight  up  to  the  king, 
and  told  him  all  his  brothers'  roguery. 
Then  it  made  the  king  very  angry  to 
hear  what  they  had  done,  and  they  were 
seized  and  punished ;  and  the  youngest 
son  had  the  princess  given  to  him  again ; 
and  he  married  her ;  and  after  the  king's 
death  he  was  chosen  king  in  his  stead. 
After  his  marriage  he  went  one  day 


The  Fox's  Brush.         125 

to  walk  in  the  wood,  and  there  the  old 
fox  met  hiui  once  more,  and  besought 
him,  with  tears  in  his  eyes,  to  be  so  kind 
as  to  cut  off  his  head  and  his  brush.  At 
last  he  did  so,  though  sorely  against  his 
will,  and  in  the  same  moment  the  fox 
was  changed  into  a  prince,  and  the  prin- 
cess knew  him  to  be  her  own  brother, 
who  had  been  lost  a  great  many  years  ; 
for  a  spiteful  fairy  had  enchanted  him, 
with  a  spell  that  could  only  be  broken 
by  some  one  getting  the  golden  bird, 
and  by  cutting  off  his  head  and  his  brush. 


<t> # 


APPENDIX. 

Many  friends  who  have  seen  the  interpre- 
tation of  the  Story  of  the  Red  Book  of  Appin, 
have  strongly  urged  the  author  of  that  inter- 
pretation to  furnish  some  notes  for  under- 
standing the  other  stories,  printed  in  the  little 
volume  with  that  story,  beyond  the  few  hints 
at  the  close  of  the  prefatory  remarks  ;  and  he 
has  concluded  to  do  so.  His  readers,  he  hopes, 
will  understand  and  make  allowances  for  the 
difficulty  of  providing  what  is  called  the  pub- 
lic with  an  interpretation  which  shall  avoid 
the  "  two  extremes  "  of  being  too  abstruse  and 
obscure  on  the  one  side,  or  too  simple  and 
open  on  the  other, — as  some  readers  may  not 


130'  Appendix, 


need  an  explanation  at  all,  while  others  may 
not  be  introduced  into  the  meaning  of  the 
stories  by  any  attempt  whatever  at  an  inter- 
pretation. Those  who  are  yet  in  the  earlier 
period  of  life  do  not  see  with  the  same  eyes  as 
those  who  have  entered  upon  their  second 
childhood  ;  and  who  can  estimate  the  variety 
of  powers  of  insight  between  these  stages  or 
conditions  of  life  ? 

The  writer  would  gladly  furnish,  if  prac- 
ticable, some  distinct  rules  by  which  the 
sense  of  such  Fairy  Stories  as  have  any  sense 
at  all  might  come  to  light,  but  this  is  hardly 
possible,  beyond  directing  the  reader  to  study 
the  sense  of  the  stories  in  their  own  spirit, 
under  the  law  of  "  the  possibilities  of  nature," 
divesting  himself  for  the  time  being  of  such 
acquired    notions   as  put    shackles  upon  the 


Appendix.  131 

freedom  of  the  spirit ;  we  mean  of  a  genuine 
spirit  of  truth  ;  for  this  alone  is  the  spirit  of 
freedom.  In  reading  these  simple  Fairy 
Tales,  many  have  only  to  be  told  that  the 
stories  are  not  mere  products  of  an  unregula- 
ted imagination,  having  no  view  to  nature  and 
life  ;  and  upon  this  suggestion  alone,  the  true 
sense  may  become  apparent ;  if  not  wholly, 
at  least  to  such  a  degree  as  to  awaken  a  better 
feeling  than  mere  curiosity,  and  then  some 
progress  may  be  made  in  opening  the  interior 
life  which  they  veil. 

We  would  earnestly  urge,  however,  that  no 
one  should  hastily  conclude  that  he  fully  un- 
derstands these  stories  ;  for  while  many  of 
them  enclose  only  some  simple  moral,  quite 
accessible  to  an  every-day  reader,  there  are 
others  again  which  reach  beyond  the  sound- 


4 

132  Appendix. 


ings  of  such  exercises  of  intellect  as  are  usually 
employed  in  what  is  commonly  called  the 
philosophy  of  mind  ;  and  this  is  not  said  in 
any  vaunting  spirit,  or  to  depreciate  the  dig- 
nity or  the  value  of  a  legitimate  use  of  the 
reason,  but  as  a  gentle  warning,  to  all  those 
who  undertake  to  explore  "these  hidden  or 
unseen  paths  of  nature,"  that  they  are  abso- 
lutely closed  to  mere  pride  of  intellect. 

Let  the  reader  understand  the  true  im- 
port of  the  language  of  the  gospels,  enforced 
as  it  is  in  every  variety  of  form — except  ye 
become  as  little  children  [or,  as  innocent  as 
children]  ye  shall  not  enter  into  the  kingdom 
of  heaven.  Let  him  understand  what  is 
meant  by  the  expression — the  children's 
bread  [or  doctrine  of  truth].  Let  him  feel 
that  he  has  a  personal  interest  in  receiving 


# 

Appendix,  133 


the  doctrines  of  truth  as  if  addressed  directly 
to  his  own  soul  ;  and  if,  at  first,  the  ground 
under  him  shall  seem  to  be  shaken,  he  need 
he  no  further  concerned  at  this,  than  to  re- 
gard it  as  a  solemn  caution,  that  he  keep  his 
eye  steadily  upon  the  star  in  the  East,  and 
follow  it  obediently  until  he  comes  out  of  what 
is  so  often  called  a  wood  or  a  forest,  in  these 
simple  tales,  where  these  expressions  almost 
invariably  mean  the  every-day  world,  in  whose 
mazy  windings  so  many  are  lost. 

In  many  of  these  stories  we  see  a  lost  one 
represented  as  ascending  a  tree,  the  figure  of 
a  rooted  principle  ;  whence  he  discerns,  as  if 
in  the  distance,  a  glimmering  light,  a  figure 
also  ;  and,  it  may  be,  a  figure  of  the  pillar  of 
cloud  by  day  and  of  fire  by  night,  which 
guided  the  children  of  Israel  from  the  bond- 


134  Appendix. 

age  of  Egypt  to  the  Holy  Land  or  land  of 
Holiness. 

In  order  to  illustrate  a  point  here  indi- 
cated, we  wil].  recite  a  very  short  story,  which 
however  is  full  of  meaning  ;  and  we  will  place 
interrogation  marks  where  we  think  the  reader 
may  with  profit  consider  what  is  intended. 
The  story  is  from  the  collection  edited  by  the 
brothers  Grimm,  as  it  reads  in  the  translation 
published  by  Crosby  &  Nichols,  1862,  entitled 
German  Popular  Tales.     It  is  called  : 

THE  FLAIL  WHICH  CAME  FROM  THE  CLOUDS. 

A  countryman  once  drove  his  plough  with 
a  pair  of  oxen  [?],  and  when  he  came  about 
the  middle  of  his  fields  [?],  the  horns  of  his 
two  beasts  [?]  began  to  grow,  and  grow,  till 


# 

Appendix.  135 


they  were  so  high,  that  when  he  went  home 
he  could  not  get  them  into  the  stable  door 
[?].  By  good  luck  just  then  a  Butcher  [?] 
passed  by,  to  whom  he  gave  up  his  beasts  [?] 
and  struck  a  bargain,  that  he  should  take  to 
the  Butcher  a  measure  full  of  Turnip  seed 
[?],  for  every  grain  of  which  the  Butcher 
should  give  him  a  Brabant  dollar.  That  is 
what  you  may  call  a  good  bargain  !  The 
countryman  went  home,  and  came  again,  car- 
ryiDg  on  his  back  a  measure  of  seed,  out  of 
which  he  dropped  one  grain  on  the  way  [?]. 
The  Butcher,  however,  reckoned  out  for  every 
seed  a  Brabant  dollar  ;  and  had  not  the  coun- 
tryman lost  one  he  would  have  received  a 
dollar  more.  Meanwhile  the  seed  which  he 
dropped  on  the  road  had  grown  up  a  fine 
tree,  reaching  into  the  clouds  [?].     So  the 


136  Appendix . 

countryman  thought  to  himself  he  might  as 
well  see  what  the  people  in  the  clouds  were 
about.  Up  he  climbed,  and  at  the  top  [?]  he 
found  a  field  [?],  with  some  people  thrashing 
oats  [?]  ;  but  while  he  was  looking  at  them 
he  felt  the  tree  shake  beneath  him  [?],  and, 
peeping  downwards,  he  perceived  that  some 
one  was  on  the  point  of  chopping  down  the 
tree  at  the  roots  [?].  "  If  I  am  thrown 
down,"  said  the  countryman,  "  I  shall  have  a 
bad  fall ;  "  and,  quite  bewildered,  he  could 
think  of  nothing  else  to  save  himself  than  to 
make  a  rope  with  the  oat  straw  [?],  which 
laid  about  in  heaps.  He  then  seized  hold  of 
a  hatchet  [?]  and  flail  [?]  which  were  near 
him,  and  let  himself  down  by  his  straw  rope. 
He  fell  into  a  deep,  deep  hole  in  the  earth 
[?],  and  found   it  very  lucky  that  he  had 


*> 


Appendix.  137 

brought  the  hatchet  with  him  ;  for  with  it  he 
cut  steps  [?],  and  so  mounted  again  into  the 
broad  daylight,  bringing  with  him  the  flail  [?] 
for  a  sign  [?]  of  the  truth  of  his  tale,  which 
nobody,  on  that  account,  was  able  to  doubt ! 
There  is  a  wonderful  adventure  !  !  ! 

Wonderful,  indeed !  but  is  it  more  won- 
derful than  that  man  should  carry  within 
himself  a  certain  something,  which,  rightly 
understood,  will  certify  to  him  an  origin,  not 
in  the  clouds  indeed,  but  above  them  ? 
What  is  it  in  man  whose  office  it  is  (figured 
by  a  flail)  to  separate  the  wheat  from  the 
chaff  ?  and  why  is  it  that  this  flail  is  said  to 
have  been  brought  down  from  the  clouds,  and 
why  is  its  nature  appealed  to  as  the  evidence 
that  it  did  so  come  from  above  ? 


138  Appendix. 

As  light  and  apparently  frivolous  as  this 
story  is,  it  presents  a  subject  for  the  gravest 
reflection,  and  raises  questions  which  can  only 
be  solved  in  the  depths  of  one's  own  conscious- 
ness in  moments  of  solemn  meditation. 

The  two  oxen  may  be  considered  the  two 
elder  brothers  (so  called)  in  many  of  these 
stories.  They  are  the  two  principles  which 
St.  Paul  describes  as  contending  within  him, 
and  which  continue  to  contend  until  mastered 
by  a  third  principle,  usually  described  as  the 
younger  of  three  sons.  In  mid  life  the  horns 
of  the  oxen  are  said  to  grow  and  grow  until 
they  overpass  the  humility  proper  to  a  spirit 
of  truth  ;  they  cannot  be  got  into  the  "  stable 
door."  They  are  then  said  to  be  sold  to  a 
Butcher  ;  or  in  other  words,  they  are  denied, 
and  given  over  to  death— or,  as  will  be  seen 


4 

Appendix.  139 


in  the  story  of  the  Fox's  Brush,  they  are  "  cut 
off."  From  the  multitude  of  principles  in 
man  (the  measure  of  turnip  seed),  one  is 
"cast  upon  the  waters/'  and  who  can  tell 
what  may  spring  from  even  one  true  principle 
sown  in  ]ife  ?  The  seed  soon  appears  as  a 
tree,  rooted  indeed  in  the  earth,  but  sending 
its  branches  into  heaven.  (The  seeds  had  a 
uniform  value,  and  any  one  of  them  might 
have  sent  the  countryman's  vision  into  the 
upper  air.)  The  man,  in  some  spiritual  sense, 
climbs  up  the  tree,  and  discovers  that,  above, 
or  in  the  spirit  life,  there  are  those  who  are 
employed  in  separating  the  goats  from  the 
sheep, — called  thrashing  out  oats.  But  then 
it  is  seen,  that  a  principle,  whose  roots  are  in 
the  natural  earth,  is  constantly  being  under- 
mined, and  may  give  a  "  bad  fall "  to  who- 


140  Appendix. 

ever  looks  for  support  from  it  ;  and  the  coun- 
tryman determines  to  spring  from  it,  even 
with  such  aid  as  may  be  had  from  mere  straw- 
gathered  above.  This,  it  is  true,  lets  him 
down  into  the  depths  of  mother  earth,  out  of 
which  he  works  his  way  into  daylight  by  his 
intellectual  hatchet ;  but  he  has  brought 
with  him  one  indisputable  evidence  (to  him- 
self) of  his  descent  from  a  higher  life,  and  an 
assurance  that  he  shall  in  due  season  return 
to  it. 

This  Flail  figures  under  so  many  forms  in 
these  Fairy  Tales,  that  it  would  be  an  endless 
task  to  point  them  out.  In  one  place  it  is 
represented  in  a  strangely  fantastic  story  by  a 
man  who  cannot  be  made  to  shiver — whereas 
we  read  that  the  wicked  flee  when  no  man 
pursueth. 


Appendix.  141 

Let  it  be  understood,  however,  that  we 
are  not  defending,  but  explaining  this  mode 
of  writing  :  it  will  defend  itself,  and  will  have 
children  for  its  patrons,  in  more  than  one 
sense. 

Here  is  another  story,  which  may  seem 
too  ridiculous  to  arrest  the  attention  of  any 
sensible  man  ;  but  the  reader  may  be  assured 
that  it  was  designed  to  exhibit  one  of  the 
profoundest  problems  in  nature,  the  solution 
of  which  will  place  any  one  in  the  proper 
condition  to  answer,  as  in  the  Story  of  the 
Fox's  Brush,  "Here  she  is."  The  story  is 
called  : 

THE  HEDGEHOG  AND  THE  HARE. 

This  story,  in  telling  it,  sounds  very  like  a 


142  Appendix. 

fable,  but  nevertheless  it  is  all  perfectly  true  ; 
for  my  grandfather,  from  whom  I  had  it,  used 
always  to  say,  as  he  told  it  to  me  chuckling 
with  glee,  "  It  must  be  true,  my  son,  other- 
wise how  could  one  tell  it  ?  "  The  story  ran 
thus  : 

It  was  a  Sunday  morning  in  harvest  time, 
just  as  the  buckwheat  was  coming  into  blos- 
som :  the  sun  had  risen  into  the  sky,  clear 
and  bright,  the  morning  wind  swept  over  the 
stubble,  the  larks  sang  merrily  as  they  rose 
into  the  air,  the  bees  hummed  busily  in  the 
buckwheat,  and  the  countryfolks  were  going 
to  church  all  drest  in  their  Sunday  clothes  ; 
all  creatures  were  merry-minded,  and  the 
hedgehog  too. 

The  hedgehog  stood  before  his  door  with 
his  arms  folded,  looked  up  into  the  morning 


Appendix.  143 

breeze,  and  hummed  a  little  tune  to  himself, 
neither  better  nor  worse  than  a  hedgehog  is 
used  to  sing  on  a  fine  Sunday  morning.  And 
as  he  was  thus  singing  to  himself,  it  all  at 
once  came  into  his  head,  that  whilst  his  wife 
was  washing  and  dressing  the  children,  he 
might  as  well  go  and  take  a  ramble  in  the 
fields,  and  look  after  his  crop  of  turnips.  Now 
the  turnips  were  close  by  his  house,  and  he 
used  to  eat  them  with  his  family ;  therefore 
he  looked  upon  them  as  his  own. 

No  sooner  said  than  done.  The  hedgehog 
fastened  the  door  after  him,  and  went  his  way 
into  the  field.  He  had  not  gone  far  from 
home,  and  was  just  waddling  round  a  little 
copsewood  which  lay  before  the  turnip  field, 
when  his  neighbor  the  hare  crossed  his  path, 
who  had  come  out  on  a  like  errand,  to  look 


10 


144  Appendix. 

after  his  cabbages.  When  the  hedgehog  spied 
the  hare,  he  wished  him  a  friendly  good  morn- 
ing. But  the  hare,  who  was  a  great  man  in 
his  way,  and  vastly  proud,  did  not  deign  to 
return  the  hedgehog's  greeting,  but  turning 
up  his  nose  in  a  scornful  manner,  he  merely 
said  to  the  hedgehog,  "  How  comes  it  that 
you  are  running  about  the  fields  so  early  in 
the  morning  ?  "  "I  am  going  to  take  a  lit- 
tle walk/'  said  the  hedgehog.  "A  walk 
forsooth  !  "  said  the  hare  laughing  ;  "  me- 
thinks  you  might  put  your  legs  to  some  bet- 
ter use," 

This  answer  disgusted  the  hedgehog  great- 
ly ;  anything  else  he  could  have  borne,  but  of 
his  legs  he  would  not  hear  a  word  in  dispar- 
agement, just  because  they  were  by  nature 
short.     "  Do  you  flatter  yourself,  "  said  he  to 


Appendix.  145 

the  hare,  "  that  you  can  do  more  with  your 
legs  ?  "  "I  fancy  so  indeed/'  said  the  hare. 
"  That  remains  to  be  seen/'  answered  the 
hedgehog  ;  "I  lay  you  a  wager  that  I  would 
beat  you  in  a  race."  "  Ha  I  ha  t  ha  !  "  said 
the  hare,  holding  his  sides  with  laughter  ; 
"you  are  a  funny  fellow,  with  your  short 
legs  t  but  with  all  my  heart,  so  let  it  be,  if 
you  are  so  anxious  to  be  beaten  :  what  shall 
the  wager  be  ?"  "  A  golden  guinea  and  a  bot- 
tle of  brandy,"  said  the  hedgehog.  "Agreed  !" 
said  the  hare,  "'let  us  start  at  once."  "Nay," 
said  the  hedgehog,  "  not  quite  so  fast  if  you 
please  ;  I  have  not  tasted  any  food  this  morn- 
ing, and  will  first  go  home  and  eat  a  bit  of 
breakfast ;  in  half  an  hour  I  will  be  here 
again." 

So   saying   the   hedgehog  went   bis  way 


♦ 

146  Appendix 


honie,  as  the  liare  was  content ;  and  on  his 
way  he  thought  to  himself,  "  The  hare  trusts 
to  his  long  legs,  but  I  will  be  up  with  him 
nevertheless.  He  gives  himself  the  airs  of  a 
fine  gentleman  truly,  yet  he  is  but  a  sorry 
fellow  after  all :  we  shall  see  who  will  win  the 
wager  ! " 

Now  when  the  hedgehog  reached  home  he 
called  his  wife,  and  said,  "  Wife,  dress  your- 
self quickly;  you  must  go  with  me  into  the 
field  hard  by."  "  What's  in  the  wind  now?" 
said  the  wife.  The  hedgehog  answered,  "I 
have  wagered  with  the  hare  a  golden  guinea 
and  a  bottle  of  brandy  that  I  will  run  a  race 
with  him,  and  you  must  stand  by  and  see  us 
run."  "  Mercy  upon  us,  man,"  cried  his  wife, 
"  are  you  stark  mad  ?  How  could  you  think 
for  a   minute    of  running   a    race   with    the 


Appendix,  147 

hare  ?  "  "  Hold  your  tongue,  wife,"  said  the 
hedgehog ;  "  that  is  my  affair :  do  not 
meddle  and  make  in  a  man's  business."  What 
could  the  hedgehog's  wife  do  ?  she  was 
obliged  to  follow,  whether  she  would  or  no. 

As  they  were  jogging  along  together,  the 
hedgehog  said  to  his  wife,  "Listen  now  to 
what  I  say.  Look, — we  shall  run  our  race 
up  yonder  long  field  :  the  hare  will  run  in 
one  furrow  and  I  in  another,  and  we  shall 
start  from  the  top  of  the  field.  Now  you 
have  only  to  sit  quietly  in  the  furrow  at  the 
further  end,  and  when  the  hare  comes  up  on 
the  other  side,  call  out  to  him,  'Here  I 
am  V  " 

By  this  time  they  had  reached  the  spot  ; 
the  hedgehog  placed  his  wife  in  the  furrow, 
and  then  went  up  the  field.     When  he  came 


148  Appendix. 

there,  the  hare  was  already  on  the  ground. 
"  Shall  we  start  ?  "  said  the  hare.  "  With 
all  my  heart/'  said  the  hedgehog.  "  Make 
ready  then  I"  So  each  one  took  up  his  place 
in  the  furrow.  The  hare  counted  "  One ! 
two  !  three  !  "  and  away  he  went  like  a  flash 
of  lightning  down  the  field.  But  the  hedge- 
hog only  ran  about  three  steps,  then  squatted 
down  in  the  furrow,  and  sat  as  still  as  a 
mouse. 

Now  when  the  hare  at  full  speed 
reached  the  end  of  the  field,  the  hedgehog's 
wife  called  out,  "  Here  I  am,  waiting  for 
you  !  "  The  hare  started,  and  was  not  a  lit- 
tle amazed,  fully  believing  that  it  was  the 
hedgehog  himself  who  called  to  him  ;  for,  as 
every  one  knows,  the  hedgehog's  wife  is  for 
all  the  world  like  her  husband. 


Appendix.  149 

But  the  hare  thought  to  himself,  "  There 
must  be  some  mistake  here."  So  he  cried, 
"  Turn  about  and  run  again  !  "  And  away 
he  went  like  an  arrow  from  a  bow,  till  his  ears 
whistled  in  the  wind  ;  but  the  hedgehog's 
wife  stayed  quietly  in  her  place.  Now  when 
the  hare  came  to  the  top  of  the  field,  the 
hedgehog  cried  out,  "  Hallo,  here  I  am  ;  where 
have  you  been  all  this  while  ?  "  But  the 
hare  was  out  of  his  wits,  and  cried  out,  "  Once 
more  I  turn  about,  and  away  !  "  "  By  all 
means,"  answered  the  hedgehog ;  "  for  my 
part,  as  often  as  you  please."  So  the  hare 
went  on  running  backwards  and  forwards 
three-and-seventy  times  ;  the  seventy-fourth 
time,  however,  he  did  not  reach  the  end  of  the 
field  ;  in  the  middle  of  the  furrow  he  dropped 
down   dead.      But    the   hedgehog   took   the 


-<$> 


150  Appendix 


golden  guinea  and  the  bottle  of  brandy  be 
bad  won,  called  bis  wife  out  of  tbe  furrow, 
and  away  tbey  jogged  merrily  borne  together  ; 
and  if  tbey  are  not  dead  tbey  are  living  still. 

To  tbe  solution  of  the  question  presented 
in  tbis  story  tbe  reader  must  bring  into  exer- 
cise bis  most  earnest  and  meditative  atten- 
tion, lest,  like  the  hare,  he  too  die  exhausted, 
in  the  "  middle  of  his  furrow,"  without  under- 
standing in  what  sense  the  hedgehog's  wife  is 
for  all  the  world  like  her  husband.  Let  the 
reader  ponder  tbe  passages — Whither  shall  I 
go  from  thy  spirit  ?  or  whither  shall  I  flee 
from  thy  presence  ?  If  I  ascend  into  heaven, 
thou  art  there  :  if  I  make  my  bed  in  hell, 
behold,  thou  art  there. 

There  is  no  design,  by  this  reference   to 


Appendix.  151 

the  spirit  breathings  of  the  Psalmist,  to  bring 
his  unapproachable  beauties  down  to  the  level 
of  the  story  just  recited  ;  but  it  is  true  never- 
theless, that  the  story  was  designed  to  convey, 
and  did  convey  to  the  initiated,  a  sense  of 
that  eternal  presence,  from  which  no  man 
can  escape,  and  to  set  forth  the  doctrine 
that,  go  where  he  will,  he  may  still  hear  a 
mysterious  voice  calling  out  to  him — "  Here 
I  am/' 

But  we  will  proceed  without  further  pre- 
face to  our  present  purpose,  and  will  point 
out  such  leading  features  of  the  four  stories 
printed  with  that  of  the  Ked  Book  of  Appin, 
as  may  convince  the  well-disposed  and  serious 
student  that  many  of  the  Fairy  Tales  of  the 
middle  ages  had  a  deep  religious  purpose,  and 


152  Appendix 


must  have  been  addressed  to  a  class  of  per- 
sons;, who  are  indeed  in  some  sense  still  living 
in  their  successors,  but  who  have  lost  sight  of 
the  history  and  the  design  of  these  simple, 
and,  to  the  natural  eye,  very  fantastic  stories, 
often  made  so,  in  order  that,  at  the  time  they 
were  written,  the  profane  should  not  be  made 
more  accursed  by  being  led  to  assume  the  pos- 
session of  a  knowledge,  said  to  belong  alone 
to  the  children  of  light,  who  were  unwilling 
to  cast  it  before  those  whom  they  figuratively 
called  dogs  and  swine. 


#- 


INTEEPEETATIOK 

OF   THE   STORY  OP 

THE    SIX   SWANS. 

[Page  61.] 

We  have  stated  in  the  preface  to  the  Story  of  the 
Red  Book  of  Appin,  page  16,  that  the  story  of  the 
"Six  Swans"  was  designed  to  illustrate  the  case  of  a 
man  who  has  commenced  a  "hunt,". or  a  search  in  the 
"large  forest"  of  the  world,  after  a  "stag,"  and  the 
stag  may  figure  truth,  or  wisdom,  or  the  way  of  life. 
In  the  "  evening"  (of  life),  the  man  is  represented  as 
stopping  his  "  horse,"  that  is,  himself,  and  as  having 
discovered  that  he  has  lost  his  way.  He  has  mistaken 
the  ohject  of  life,  or  the  way  to  it,  and  has  followed 
his  individual  genius  so  exclusively,  that  he  now  finds 
himself  quite  alone,  separated  from  those  who  began 
life  with  him, — most  of  whom  may  be  considered  as 


#- 


154  Interpretation. 

similarly  isolated  in  the  world,  either  intellectually 
or  affectionally.  He  now  looks  on  all  sides  of  him 
for  a  solution  of  the  problem  of  life,  "but  all  in 
vain." 

He  may  be  considered  as  represented  in  the  Story  of 
Faust  in  his  library,  having  exhausted  philosophy,  and 
medicine,  and  "to  his  cost"  theology,  only  to  find  out 
at  last  that  he  is  just  "as  wise  as  he  was  before,"  and 
knows  nothing  at  all.  In  this  state,  an  evil  nature 
within  the  learned  man  in  his  library,  rises  up  and  is 
personified  in  Mephistopheles,  &c. 

In  a  somewhat  similar  manner  in  this  Fairy  Story,  a 
spirit  of  evil  appears  to  the  lost  man,  and  is  personified 
in  the  "  old  woman  with  a  shaking  head,"  who  is  called 
a  witch.  She  represents  the  world  and  its  witcheries 
in  an  outward  and  bad  sense;  but  the  world  would 
have  no  power  for  mischief  over  man  if  there  were  no 
principles  in  man  to  which  the  world  appeals  and  finds 
a  response.  A  compact  is  now  entered  into  with  the 
old  woman,  resulting  in  an  offer, 

Page  62,  on  the  part  of  the  old  woman  (or  the 
w^orld),  of  her  daughter  as  the  wife,  or  the  object  of 


The   Six   Swans.  155 

love  to  the  king,  that  is,  to  the  man  who  is  the  subject 
of  the  story. 

Page  63.  This  daughter  is  what  is  understood  to  be 
■sin.  It  is  a  love  of  the  world  as  opposed  to  or  as  not 
being  the  love  of  God;  and  her  "beauty"  is  simply 
the  fascinations  of  the  world,  its  pleasures,  its  honors, 
&c,  to  one  who  yields  to  them  beyond  the  dictates  of 
reason  and  conscience.  The  King's  "palace"  is  his 
heart;  and  the  "  marriage"  signifies  that  the  man  has 
taken  the  love  of  the  world  into  his  affections. 

In  many  places  of  Scripture,  marriage  is  simply  a 
figurative  expression  for  love ;  and  hence,  for  a  Jew  to 
take  a  wife  among  strangers,  means  to  take  to  one's 
heart  an  object  of  affection  forbidden  to  the  people  of 
God.  This  will  be  found  to  explain  much  peculiar  lan- 
guage in  Scripture,  as  in  the  16th  chap,  of  Ezekiel  and 
elsewhere. 

"We  now  come  to  that  portion  of  the  story  (page  63), 
which  represents  that  the  man  had  been  married  once 
before,  and  that  his  first  wife  had  brought  him  six  boys 
and  a  little  girl,  "  whom  he  loved  more  than  the  whole 
world  besides."     These  seven  children  represent  the 


156  Interpretation. 

four  cardinal  and  the  three  theological  virtues,  Petj- 
dence,  Tempeeance,  Justice,  Foetitude,  Faith,  Hope 
and  Chaeitt, — CHARITY  being  represented  by  the 
little  girl,  the  greatest  of  all,  and  the  principle  of  Love 
and  of  Liee  itself. 

These  seven  are  the  seven  "  champions,"  so  called, 
"  of  Christendom,"  and  a  due  acquaintance  with  the 
part  they  perform  in  spiritual  life,  will  furnish  the  key 
for  understanding  the  celebrated  allegory  under  this 
title.  They  are  also  the  seven  Sleepers  of  whom  even 
Gibbon  condescended  to  write,  for  they  sometimes 
sleep,  but  never  die.  They  are  more  patriarchal  in 
the  world  than  the  Patriarchs  themselves. 

On  this  page  (63)  we  see  that  the  man  was  conscious 
of  the  evil  influences  of  a  worldly  life,  without,  at 
first,  losing  his  affection  for  right  principles,  which, 

Page  64,  he  wishes  to  preserve,  reserving  a  place 
for  them  in  the  lonely  or  secret  chamber  of  his  "  cas- 
tle" [or  heart] :  but  they  are  now  there,  not  by  the 
power  of  life,  but  by  the  strength  of  memory,  which 
is  soon  to  fade.  The  clew  of  thread  is,  of  course,  the 
conscience,  with  which  a  "  wise  woman"  (nature)  had 


TA6  #?'#  8 iv an s.  157 

endowed  him,  by  which  he  was  enabled  to  recall  [or 
"  visit  "]  his  better  thoughts. 

But  no  man  can  serve  God  and  mammon  for  any 
length  of  time,  without  losing  his  godly  thoughts  or 
virtues,  in  proportion  as  habit  makes  him  familiar  with 
the  attractions  of  the  world ;  and  this  finally  proceeds 
to  such  an  extent  that  evil  habits,  represented  as 
"  shirts  "  woven  by  sin,  who  is  now  the  queen,  and  the 
stepmother  of  the  little  girl,  quite  transforms  the  char- 
acter of  her  six  brethren, 

Page  66,  and  they  are  said  to  be  "changed  into 
swans,"  and  to  fly  away  over  the  wood.  In  this  con- 
dition of  things  the  man  is  said  to  "  visit "  his  chil- 
dren ;  that  is,  to  recall  his  better  thoughts  ;  but  the  lit- 
tle girl,  in  the  character  of  conscience,  tells  him  of  the 
sad  effects  of  sin,  showing  him, 

r  Page  67,  external  signs,  which  are  figured  as  "  fea- 
thers" picked  up  in  the  "court  yard;"  for  sin  does  not 
enter  into  the  shekinaJi  of  the  heart  without  driving 
out  the  presiding  spirit  altogether. 

On  this  page  (67),  we  see  represented  the  "great 
dread  "  which  a  spirit  of  innocence  has  for  the  contam- 


158  Interpretation. 

inations  of  a  corrupt  world;  and  we  see  how  the  con- 
science pleads  and  implores  not  to  be  thrown  out  of 
the  "  castle  "  [or  heart].  We  see  also  how  the  convic- 
tions of  the  conscience  make  the  man  "  sad  ;  "  but  this 
sadness,  we  see,  leads  him  to  the  wise  resolution,  — "I 
will  go  and  seek  my  brothers;  "—that  is,  the  man  de- 
termines to  make  an  effort  to  recover  his  better  thoughts, 
and  return  to  a  better  life. 

Page  68.  We  now  see  the  man,  under  the  guidance 
of  his  better  thoughts  passing  into  the  "  lonely  cottage" 
[or  closet]  of  his  inner  nature,  and  he  ascends  "  up  the 
stairs  "  to  his  superior  or  higher  life,  where  he  discov- 
ers what  may  be  called  th'e  principles  of  the  virtues, 
their  "  forms  "  according  to  the  language  of  the  schools, 
the  virtues  themselves  being  absent.  These  now  come 
before  him  in  his  serious  meditations ;  but  they  are 
seen  in  their  changed  condition  as  "  swans,"  and  are 
represented  as  seating  themselves  on  the  "  ground,"  to 
express  that  humility  of  the  man  which,  in  the  spiritu- 
al history  of  the  soul,  performs  so  important  a  part  in 
the  restoration  of  fallen  man  to  a  better  life  :  and  now 
the  man  has  a  clear  vision  of  the  virtues  for  a  brief  pe- 


The  Six  Swans,  159 

riod  in  their  true  character,  and  the  "  little  maiden," 
the  conscience  or  the  spiritual  life,  recognizes  the  con- 
nection of  the  virtues  with  itself:  they  are  brethren  of 
one  family:. 

Page  69  is  a  dramatic  scene  to  introduce  the  doc- 
trine of  the  "six  days'"  work  or  labor,  in  which 
(page  70)  the  principle  of  truth  must  be  engaged  in 
making  (that  is,  the  man  must  be  engaged  in  acquiring) 
new  habits  of  life,  to  be  woven  of  "  star-flowers,"  or 
heavenly  thoughts,  with  which  to  bring  back  the  breth- 
ren [that  is,  the  virtues],  into  their  primal  state. 

Each  of  the  six  days  is  designated,  sometimes,  as  an 
evening  and  a  morning,  the  evening  (or  darkness)  fig- 
uring the  trial,  and  the  morning  (or  light)  signifying  the 
victory,  each  trial  and  victory  constituting  a  day  (or  a 
year),  in  which  each  virtue  perfects  its  work,  the 
whole  six  labors  ending  in  a  Sabbath,  or  rest,  proper 
to  Charity,  as  the  principle  and  consummation  of  all 
good. 

And  now  we  see  the  great  resolve  which  lies  at  the 
root  of  so  much  true  excellence  in  life — the  great  re- 
solve to  build  up  a  true  character,  "  even  if  it  should 


11 


160  In  terpretation. 

cost  [as  the  story  reads]  life  itself;"  for  in  this  state  of 
the  soul,  life  is  seen  to  have  no  value  except  in  its 
truth  and  virtue. 

On  page  71,  another  king  would  seem  to  be  intro- 
duced ;  but  it  is  the  same  man  in  a  changed  character. 
He  is  now  seeking  a  better  life,  and  he  discovers  the 
little  maiden,  truth,  in  the  upper  branches  of  a  tree, — 
a  tree  being  the  figure  or  symbol  of  a  sure  principle 
rooted  in  the  firm  earth.  As  yet  he  is  purblind,  and 
does  not  clearly  know  or  recognize  the  object  of  his 
search  ;  which  is  figured  by  her  making  no  answer  to 
the  call,  "who  art  thou?  "  She  refuses  also  to  "  come 
down,"  but  the  man  receives  some  external  symbols  of 
the  truth,  represented  as  being  thrown  down  from  the 
tree. 

Page  72.  The  truth  in  its  simplicity  is  not  recog- 
nized by  the  man  of  the  world,  when  he  first  goes  in 
search  of  it,  not  even  when  really  in  its  presence.  It  is 
covered  with  a  "  little  shift "  (or  seamless  coat),  and 
it  remains  in  its  elevation,  compelling  those  who  would 
have  access  to  it,  to  "climb  up"  to  it;  neither  can  the 
man  hold  free  converse  with  it.    All  the  languages  of 


The  Six  Swans.  161 

the  world  will  not  enable  any  one  to  bold  converse 
with  the  truth.  The  little  maid  remains  "dumb  as  a 
fish ;  "  and  she  will  continue  to  remain  dumb,  until 
those  who  seek  her  acquire  some  skill  in  her  own  lan- 
guage. In  plain  words,  the  merely  worldly  man  can- 
not speak  (or  feel)  the  language  (that  is,  the  spirit)  of 
holiness.  But  whilst  this  is  so,  it  is  quite  within  the 
power  of  nature  to  fall  in  love  with  the  beauty  of  holi- 
ness, through  an  acquaintance  with  its  external  mani- 
festations ;  and  this  is  what,  we  now  see,  takes  place, 
the  man  being  represented  as  bringing  the  silent  little 
maiden  to  his  palace,  that  is,  to  his  heart.  Then  a 
sense  of  her  beauty  grows  upon  him  and  shines 

Page  73,  "like  the  bright  day ;"  and  the  marriage 
is  celebrated.  But  still  she  will  not  speak  until  she 
can  be  understood,  and  she  cannot  be  understood  ex- 
cept by  a  heart  in  the  right  state  for  it ;  but  this  can- 
not be  until  the  work  of  redemption  is  carried  on  to 
perfection. 

And  now  we  see  illustrated  the  doctrine  that  the 
coming  of  Christ,  or  the  Spirit  of  Truth,  brings  a  sword 
into  the  soul :  it  stirs  up  contention  between  the  good 


162  Inter  pr  etati  on. 

and  the  evil  principles,  in  order  to  a  separation  from 
the  latter,  who  are  here  personified  in  the  "  wicked 
mother,"  who  is  represented  as  "  very  angry,"— because 
of  the  marriage  of  the  man  to  the  little  maiden,  that 
is,  the  marriage  of  the  soul  to  truth. 

Pages  73,  '4,  &  '5,  give  us  the  image  of  the  three 
trials  to  which  the  truth  is  subjected,  before  it  can  be 
valued  as  thrice  refined  gold,  or  goodness.  The  three 
children  of  divine  truth  may  be  considered  as  Faith, 
Hope,  and  Charity,  although  there  is  no  occasion  to  sup- 
pose that  these  three  are  precisely  referred  to  in  this 
part  of  the  story.  We  may  perfectly  see  the  true 
spirit  of  the  story  without  being  precise  on  this  point. 

"We  see,  page  73,  that  the  Spirit  of  Truth  is  brought 
to  the  deepest  point  of  depression  the  last  day  of  the 
six  years  (or  days)  of  labor,  before  the  dawning  of  the 
Sabbath  or  rest,  which  is  now  nearly  attained.  This  is 
according  to  the  truth  of  nature  ;  for  the  soul  may  en- 
ter upon  the  work  of  regeneration  with  some  cheerful- 
ness, and  not  discover  the  magnitude  of  the  undertaking 
until  the  close  of  the  divine  work  is  approached.  But 
one  of  the  shirts  wants  a  sleeve :  which  indicates  that 


The  Six   Swa?is.  163 

• 

no  man,  while  in  the  body,  wears  a  perfect  robe  of 
righteousness.  There  is  always  something  to  save  him 
from  the  sin  of  pride. 

Page  76.  But  now  the  little  shirts,  or  the  habits  01 
life  woven  with  star-flowers,  or  heavenly  thoughts,  are 
as  perfect  as  the  imperfect  nature  of  man  will  permit. 
The  truth  is  revealed  or  comes  into  light,  and 

Page  77.  the  children  of  truth  are  recovered,  which 
the  man,  whilst  under  the  influence  of  the  world,  could 
not  preserve  or  protect,  and  all  of  the  mysteries  con- 
nected with  the  experience  of  the  past  are  explained. 
The  old  man  is  put  off;  and  the  new  man  enters  into 
the  new  life,  and  lives  many  years  in  "  peace  and  hap- 
piness." 

Such  we  take  to  be  the  meaning  of  this  fairy  tale  of 
the  Six  Swans ;  if  not  perfectly  accurate  in  all  its  de- 
tails, and  not  entirely  complete  in  touching  upon  all  the 
shades  of  meaning  in  the  story,  yet,  in  the  main,  we 
are  very  sure  that  this  interpretation  will  bear  exami- 
nation, and  that  the  story  must  gain  in  beauty  and  in- 
terest under  this  method  of  exposition. 


INTERPRETATION 


OF    THE   STORY   OF 


THE   WHITE   DOVE. 

[Page  81.] 

The  "  young  girl "  may  represent  a  divine  faith ;  or 
we  may  call  it  a  spirit  of  truth.  She  is  the  OrpJian 
Boy  of  the  story  of  the  Red  Book  of  Appin  (p.  32). 
She  is  represented  as  riding  in  a  "  coach "  (the  man) 
with  her  "  master  and  mistress"  -(body  and  soul)  through 
a  "  large  wood"  (the  world) ;  and  in  the  "  middle  of  the 
wood  "  (or  in  mid-life),  the  man  is  assailed  by  a  "  band 
of  robbers,"  (that  is,  of  pleasures  or  worldly  tempta- 
tions), and  they  "kill "(or  destroy)  whatever  there  was 
good  in  the  man  which  came  under  their  influence. 
"  Thus  all  were  killed  "  or  destroyed,  except  the  maid 
(or  the  principle  of  truth  itself),  which,  when  assailed 
by  "  violence,"  is  sometimes  saved  by  seeking  refuge  in 
itself  as  a  firmly  rooted  principle, — here,  as  elsewhere 


166  In  terpretat  io  n . 

in  so  many  of  these  stories,  figured  by  a  "  tree,"  behind 
which  the  "  maid  "  is  represented  as  hiding  herself. 

When  the  robbers  had  gone  off,  the  maid  is  repre- 
sented as  "  coming  out,"  and  as  seeing  the  "  dreadful 
deed  "  that  had  been  done, — which  means,  that  when 
the  passions,  the  robbers  in  the  case,  had  subsided,  the 
man  awakes  to  consciousness  ;  and  the  spirit  of  truth, 
in  the  form  of  the  conscience,  tells  him  of  the  mischief 
that  had  been  done.  This  is  now  followed  by  a  peni- 
tent spirit,  represented  by  the  maid  as  "  weeping  bit- 
terly," and, 

Page  82.  the  man  is  described,  still  under  the 
form  of  the  "  poor  girl,"  as  wandering  in  the  "  wood  " 
(of  life)  "  seeking  a  path,  but  finding  none." 

This  is  what,  in  alchemy,  is  called  the  black  state  of 
the  matter  of  the  philosopher's  stone,  which  is  said  to 
be  a  necessary  preparative  to  what  is  called  the  white 
state, — the  white  state  being  one  of  pure  resolves  to 
"  abide "  by  some  fixed  and  determinate  principle  of 
truth  and  goodness.  The  name  of  this  black  state  in 
Scripture,  is  simply  repentance^  a  caH  to  which  is  the 
office  of  John  the  Baptist,  or  of  the  letter  of  the  divine 


The  White  Dove,  16? 

law  of  Moses,  who  is  to  introduce  one  whose  shoe's 
latchet  the  Baptist  is  not  worthy  to  unloose. 

The  next  step  in  the  development  exhibits  the  man 
in  the  execution  of  the  "  great  resolve ; "  the  maid 
seats  herself,  that  is,  the  man  seats  himself  under  a 
tree,  the  tree,  as  we  have  already  said,  being  the  figure 
of  a  firmly  rooted  principle ;  and  he  determines  to 
abide  by  it  and  "  not  to  go  away,  happen  what  might." 

The  mystical  writers  have  much  to  say  of  this,  it 
being  the  beginning  of  a  "  new  life,"  and  it  is  all-im- 
portant that  it  should  be  entered  upon  in  a  clear  pur- 
pose pointing  to  but  ono  thing,  absolutely  separated 
from  all  admixture  with  what  is  called  a  love  of  the 
world.  When  the  seat  under  the  tree  is  properly  as- 
sumed, the  injunction  in  the  gospel  is  complied  with: — 
the  man  denies  himself,  determined  to  stand  upon  the 
principle,  that  is,  upon  the  spirit  of  truth,  which  truly 
points  to  the  cross  of  Christ ;  for  this  is  what  a  seat  un- 
der the  tree  implies. 

The  man  may  therefore  be  here  considered  as  stand- 
ing upon  the  cross  within  the  charmed  circle,  as  repre- 
sented in  the  Story  of  the  Red  Book  of  Appin  (note 


168  Interpretation, 

13,  page  40).  The  maid,  that  is,  the  man,  now  under 
the  influence  or  guidance  of  the  virgin  (truth),  having 
passed  through  the  spiritual  baptism,  is  prepared  for 
receiving  a  visitation  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  which  accord- 
ingly comes  to  him  under  the  form,  or  in  the  symbol  of 
the  white  dove,  bearing  the  golden  key  in  its  bill,  by 
which  the  spiritual  treasures  of  life  are  to  be  opened. 
The  golden  key  is  dropped  into  the  u  girl's  hand ;  "  and 
as  the  hand  is  the  symbol  of  power  (note  20,  page  48), 
we  here  see  the  man  endowed  with  spiritual  power ; 
and  now  his  inward,  or  spiritual  eye,  being  turned  in 
the  right  direction,  he  sees  the  "large  tree,"  or,  in  other 
words,  he  recognizes  the  universal  spirit,  the  Spirit  of 
God. 

This  is  the  water  of  which  we  read, — "  whosoever 
drinketh  of  the  water  that  I  shall  give  him  shall  never 
thirst ;  but  the  water  that  I  shall  give  him  shall  be  in 
him  a  well  of  water  springing  up  into  everlasting  life." 
The  man  is  here  commanded  by  the  dove  to  open  the 
tree  with  the  golden  key,  and  with  a  promise  that  he 
shall  "  find  plenty  of  food,  and  shall  no  longer  suffer 
hunger." 


= * 

The  White  Dove.  169 

Page  83.  The  man  opens  the  tree  and  finds,  ac- 
cording to  the  promise,  "  some  milk  in  a  little  dish  [the 
heart]  and  a  loaf  of  white  bread  "  [or  pure  doctrine]. 
This  is  the  milk  and  the  bread,  let  the  reader  not  be 
startled,  of  which  it  is  said,  or  which,  personified,  says 
of  itself, — "  I  am  the  bread  of  life  :  he  that  cometh  to  me 
shall  never  hunger ;  and  he  that  believeth  on  me  shall 
never  thirst."  "  So  the  maid  had  now  plenty  to  eat  and 
to  drink."  It  may  be  well  enough  to  say  here  that  the 
kind  of  hunger  and  thirst  thus  relieved,  is  the  hunger 
and  thirst  after  righteousness. 

But  the  man  not  alone  requires  spiritual  sustenance ; 
he  needs  rest  or  repose  of  the  spirit,  which  also  is  to  be 
obtained  from  the  same  "  large  tree "  from  which  he 
receives  the  inexhaustible  food. 

Before  opening  the  tree  with  the  second  key,  the 
reflection  is  induced, — "  The  hens  at  home  are  now  all 
going  to  roost ;  ah  me !  (says  the  maiden),  I  am  so 
tired, — could  I  but  also  lay  down  in  my  bed !  "  So  was 
it  with  the  Son  of  man.  "  The  foxes  have  holes,  and  the 
birds  of  the  air  have  nests ;  but  the  Son  of  man  hath 
not  where  to  lay  his  head.'1 


170  Interpretation. 

Now  the  white  dove,  or  Divine  Spirit,  delivers  to  the 
tired  wanderer  the  second  golden  key,  with  the  com- 
mand to  open  the  tree;  and  this  being  done,  the  maid 
finds  a  "beautiful  soft  little  bed,"  in  which  thepiousspir- 
it  finds  the  repose  promised  in  the  words, — "  Come  unto 
me,  all  ye  that  labor  and  are  heavy  laden,  and  I  will 
give  you  rest." 

"We  now  come  to  the  fruit  of  the  third  key,  which 
is  delivered  into  the  hand  of  the  maiden  the  "next 
morning."  This  is  a  significant  expression,  the  next 
morning,  for  the  meaning  of  which  the  reader  is  re- 
ferred to  note  14,  page  40,  of  the  Story  of  the  Eed 
Book. 

Page  84.  It  must  be  noticed  that  the  three  keys 
(of  the  Trinity)  all  open  and  give  entrance  to  the  same 
tree,  the  tree  of  life,  the  third  key  providing  the  "  beau- 
tiful dress  "  [the  robe  of  righteousness]  "  more  splendid 
than  any  king's  daughter  ever  had."  And  now  the 
maid  lives  for  some  time  in  the  wood  (or  the  world), 
the  dove,  like  Elijah's  raven,  providing  "all  she 
wanted." 

"We  see,  however,  that  in  all  spiritual  histories  the 


The  White  Dove.  171 

truth  is  perfected  in  "  affliction  "  and  in  "  trials ;  "  and 
accordingly  we  now  see  that  the  maid  does  not  escape 
without  her  trial.  She  is  sent  into  the  world;  hut 
with  a  caution,  "  for  her  life's  sake,"  not  to  make  any 
answer  when  accosted  hy  the  old  woman,  who  here 
figures  the  fine  gentleman  of  the  Story  of  the  Ked 
Book  (note  5,  p.  34), 

Page  85.  She  is  to  pass  by  the  old  woman  on  the 
right  hand  (leaving  the  goats  to  take  the  left),  and  she 
is  to  enter  the  "  little  chamber  "  of  her  heart,  now  pu- 
rified and  enlightened  by  the  Holy  Spirit,  and  there 
she  is  to  see  its  tt  rings  "  (or  principles)  in  the  greatest 
profusion,  and  an  abundance  of  glittering  stones  (or 
truths).  From  these  she  is  commanded  to  select  a 
"plain  "  ring,  the  emblem  of  simplicity,  the  character- 
istic of  a  "  right  spirit." 

Page  86.  Everything  happens  as  the  dove,  that  is, 
as  the  spirit  directs ;  but, — and  this  seems  strange  at 
first, — the  maid  does  not  find  among  her  spiritual  treas- 
ures, the  plain  ring,  or  a  perfect  humility,  and  why 
was  this  ?  It  was  because  she  had  not  even  yet  entire- 
ly and  absolutely  emptied  her  heart  of  all  tincture  or 


172  In  terp  retation. 

touch  of  worldliness.  If  the  reader  will  examine  his 
own  heart  attentively,  be  he  never  so  good,  he  may  find 
the  key  for  understanding  the  representation  by  which 
we  see  the  old  woman  (page  86)  "  sneaking  off  with  a 
bird  cage  in  her  hand  and  trying  to  make  her  escape 
with  it."  But  the  girl  runs  up  to  her  and  takes  the 
cage  out  of  her  hand,  and  lifting  it  up, 

Page  87.  and  peeping  into  it,  she  discovers  a  bird 
with  a  plain  ring  in  its  bill.  This  she  rescues  from  the 
grasp  of  the  old  woman,  as  the  Orphan  Boy  rescues  the 
Red  Book  in  a  similar  sense  from  the  jine  gentleman. 

This  indicates  that  the  life  has  not  been  as  yet  per- 
fect, and  that  the  spiritual  vision  is  not  yet  entirely 
clarified.  The  maid  does  not  yet  know  the  true  char- 
acter of  the  dove,  and  that  it  is  the  Flail  from  heaven, 
whose  office  it  is  to  separate  the  wheat  from  the  chaff. 
She  is  therefore  represented  as  still  feeling  the  need  of 
external  support,  expecting  from  the  dove  some  farther 
counsel ;  and  in  the  mean  time  she  "  leans  "  against  a 
tree,  the  principle  she  began  with,  in  her  spiritual  ex- 
perience. 

But  now  we  see  the  spiritual  miracle.     As  the  maid 


The   White  Dove.  173 

leans  against  the  tree  "  it  seems  to  her  to  grow  soft  and 
flexible,  and  to  let  down  its  boughs  \  and  all  at  once, 
the  branches  wind  themselves  around  the  maiden,  and 
behold  they  are  two  arms.  And  when  she  looked 
around,  the  tree  had  become  a  handsome  young  man," 
who  declares  himself  a  king's  son, — and  does  the  read- 
er need  to  be  told  that  this  king's  son  is  the  Prince  of 
Peace  ? 

Page  88.  In  the  explanation  that  follows,  we  may 
see  that  the  principle  of  truth  is  perhaps  never  entirely 
smothered  in  the  world,  though,  as  in  the  case  of  the 
widow's  only  son,  it  sometimes  sleepeth;  and  all  men,  if 
they  will  examine  themselves,  may  find  brief  periods, 
or  intervals  of,  it  may  be,  "two  hours,"  in  which,  in 
one  form  or  another,  they  become  conscious  of  a  divi- 
ner life  than  can  be  found  in  the  love  of  the  world,  in 
any  of  its  attractions  whatever ;  and  by  the  light  of 
that  diviner  life  they  may  see  all  nature  a  living  whole 
obeying  faithfully  the  eternal  Spirit  of  God,  in  which 
all  men  may  become  one  united  brotherhood.  John 
xvii.  21. 


174  Interpretation, 

We  pronounce  here  no  opinion  upon  the  excellency 
or  the  insufficiency  of  the  mode  of  teaching  exhibited 
in  this  Fairy  Story  ;  but  that  its  purpose  was  to  illus- 
trate the  action  of  the  Divine  Spirit  upon  the  soul  of 
man,  there  surely  cannot  be  a  shadow  of  doubt. 


-# 


INTERPRETATION' 

OP  THE  8TOET   OF 

DUMMLING  AND   THE   TOAD. 

[Page  91.] 

The  King  in  this  story,  as  usual,  represents  man ; 
and  lie  is  said  to  have  three  sons  ;  or,  in  other  words, 
man  is  an  image  of  the  Trinity,  which,  for  purposes  of 
study,  but  not  in  any  definite  sense,  may  be  considered 
as  set  forth  in  the  body,  soul,  and  spirit.  Two  are 
spoken  of  as  clever,  meaning  in  a  worldly  sense ;  but 
the  third,  representing  the  spirit,  and  which  primarily 
may  be  called  the  conscience,  is  exhibited  as  "  almost 
a  simpleton,"  to  convey  the  idea  that  the  conscience 
always  acts  with  the  greatest  possible  simplicity  and 
directness.  It  knows  of  no  windings,  and  flies  the 
touch  of  all  worldly  suggestions  counselling  duplicity. 
It  will  lead  in  a  divine  silence  those  who  obediently 


12 


176  Interpretation. 

follow  it ;  but  in  a  mystical  sense  it  dies  when  disobeyed, 
or  then  only  appears  under  other  forms  to  haunt  the 
soul  with  the  ghosts  of  murdered  principles  of  good- 
ness. 

The  man  is  represented  as  if  in  doubt  as  to  what 
principle  should  be  regarded  as  of  highest  authority  in 
life.  Of  course,  this  must  be  considered  a  theoretical 
fiction  for  the  purpose  of  illustrating  something.  In 
the  interpretation  of  these  Fairy  fictions  something 
must  be  allowed  to  the  framework  or  the  setting  in 
which  the  spirit  of  the  story  is  to  be  sought. 

"  Go  out  into  the  world,  my  sons  (says  the  man) 
and  whoever  brings  me  the  finest  carpet  shall  be  king 
after  my  death."  A  carpet  is  something  to  walk  upon, 
and  here  figures  the  finest  (or  best)  walk  in  life.  It 
should  be  something  which  says  to  us — "  This  is  the 
way,  walk  ye  (on)  it."  Isa.  xxx.  21.  To  the  Jew  the 
divine  Law  was  the  only  carpet  prepared  for  the  walk, 
not  of  the  king  only,  but  of  all  men. 

Page  92.  The  three  "feathers"  of  course  figure 
the  three  principles,  two  of  which  are  represented  as 
moving  in  opposite  directions,  and  immediately  they 
# 


Dummling  and  the  Toad.    177 

diverge  from  the  right  way ;  hut  the  third,  represent- 
ing the  spirit,  moves  in  a  "  straight  line,"  and  has  not 
far  to  go  (for  straight  is  the  way  that  leadeth  unto 
life).  This  spirit  will  say  to  us,  if  we  listen  to  its 
voice,  its  still  small  voice, — "  This  commandment  which 
I  give  thee  this  day,  it  is  not  hidden  from  thee,  neither 
is  it  far  off.  *  *  But  the  word  is  very  nigh  unto  thee' 
in  thy  mouth  and  in  thy  heart,  that  thou  may  est  do  it.'' 
Deut.  xxx.  12,  14. 

The  two  principles  are  the  oxen  in  the  story  of  The 
Flail  from  the  Clouds,  whose  horns  (or  pride)  grew 
and  grew,  until  they  could  not  enter  the  door  of  the 
stable,  or  the  humility  proper  to  the  life  of  the  spirit. 

These  two  principles,  going  in  opposite  directions, 
are  represented  as  laughing  in  their  pride  at  the  sim- 
plicity of  truth,  while  we  see  Dummling  taking  his 
humble  seat  upon  the  ground  "  with  the  third  feather." 

But  the  spirit  is  not  free  from  sadness  while  the 
man  is  on  the  lower  rounds  of  the  ladder  which  reaches 
up  into  everlasting  light.  "Dummling  sat  himself 
down  and  was  sad  at  heart ;  "  but  in  his  sadness  and 
humility  he  "  all  on  a  sudden  "  discovers  a  secret  door 


178  In  terpretation. 

winch  is  to  give  him  an  entrance  into  spiritual  life. 
The  door  was  in  the  ground,  that  is,  in  the  humility 
which  had  been  pointed  out  by  the  feather.  Duram- 
ling  accepts  this  humility  as  the  principle  of  his 
proper  life,  and  he  follows  the  pathway  opened  by  that 
door. 

Page  93.  It  leads  him  downward  three  steps, 
corresponding  to  the  three  principles  of  life.  "We  see 
in  the  sacred  histories,  as  represented  in  the  Creed,  that 
Christ  descends  before  he  rises  in  glory :  and  so  it 
must  be.  Dummling  finds  another  door,  and  obeying 
the  injunction  to  "knock,"  as  the  Christian  may  be 
supposed  to  knock  at  the  Gospel  door  [that  is,  the  inner 
door,  the  Law  being  the  outer  door],  and  a  sign  comes 
to  him  from  within,  followed  by  an  opening  of  the 
door,  where  a  strange  enough  figure  is  presented  to  his 
eye, — "  a  great  fat  toad,  and  a  number  of  little  toads 
sitting  around  her ;  "  and  what  is  here  intimated  in 
this  strange  emblem  ?  Nothing  else  but  great  mother 
nature  and  her  ministers  or  principles,  in  a  circle  (be 
it  observed)  around  her ;  for  nature  is  a  circle  ever 
returning  into  herself :  but  until  her  principle  of  life 


Dummling  and  the  Toad.    179 

is  discovered  she  may  be  figured  in  thousands  of  ways, 
and  why  not  as  a  great  fat  toad,  which,  though  ugly 
and  venomous,  "hath  yet  a  precious  jewel  in  her 
head."  Dummling  here  asks  for  what  he  seeks,  and, 
page  94,  he  obtains  what  he  seeks,  the  most  beautiful 
carpet  (or  way  of  life),  more  beautiful  than  any  that 
can  be  woven  by  any  (book-making)  loom  in  the  world. 
He  is  duly  thankful,  as  why  should  he  not  be,  for  a 
piece  of  instruction  which  the  world  can  neither  give 
nor  take  away. 

But  the  two  principles — which,  for  convenience,  we 
may  call  the  reason  and  the  affections,  the  sun  and 
moon  of  the  hermetic  writers — are  of  a  worldly  char- 
acter, or  they  look  outwardly,  and  do  not  seek  the 
way  of  life ;  and  not  appreciating  the  beauty  of  holi- 
ness, they  mistake  the  coarse  shawl,  not  accepted  in 
humility,  for  the  beautiful  carpet. 

Page  95.  As  a  consequence,  they  are  adjudged  to 
have  failed  in  the  first  trial;  and  another  trial  is  pro- 
posed— a  search  after  "the  most  beautiful  ring,"  or.  in 
other  words,  the  most  enduring  truth,  figured  by  a 
ring,  which  has  neither  beginning  nor  ending.     The 


180  Interpretation. 

two  principles  set  off  as  before  in  opposite  directions ; 
but  Dummling  takes  his  seat  of  humility  by  the  door 
which  leads  him  down  into  the  depths  of  his  mother, 

Page  96,  where  again  he  obtains  what  he  seeks,  and 
by  the  same  process.  He  finds  a  ring  "  finer  than  any 
goldsmith  can  make" — for  it  is  made  by  a  "cunning 
worker,"  no  other  than  life,  the  sacred  builder. 

Page  97.  But  a  third  trial  is  proposed,  and  this  is 
a  search  after  the  "most  beautiful  wife,"  the  crown- 
ing blessing  of  life,  whether  taken  in  a  real  or  a  mys- 
tical sense.  But  here  it  is  taken  in  a  mystical  sense, 
and  here  too  the  great  mother  is  appealed  to;  and  it 
turns  out  that  a  child  of  her  own  is  that  beautiful  bride. 

The  turnip,  in  this  representation,  is  a  figure  of 
vegetable  life,  and  is  the  image  of  the  body,  or  the  nat- 
ural man  ;  and  the  six  mice  harnessed  to  it,  are  no 
others  than  our  friends  the  six  swans,  or  the  virtues  of 
prudence,  temperance,  justice,  fortitude,  faith,  and  hope, 
while  Ohaeity,  the  greatest'  of  all,  is  the  presiding 
queen,  and  rides  in  the  coach.  The  natural  man,  as 
we  see,  almost  despairs,  and  asks,  TThat  can  I  do  with 
a  turnip  ? 


#- 


Dummling  and  the  Toad.    181 

Page  98.  But  the  great  mother  answers,  by  en- 
joining that  obedience,  the  departure  from  which  we 
are  told  was  the  first  sin.  She  commands,  "  Do  what 
I  bid  you."  And  now,  what  is  this  command?  It  is 
as  if  nature  said  to  us,  Put  into  your  soul  a  true  genuine 
principle — one  of  my  family,  any  one,  as  they  sit  in  a 
" ring "  (or  circle)  around  me:  and  then  what  do  we 
see  ?  The  toad  is  changed  into  a  beautiful  maiden,  the 
turnip  becomes  a  handsome  coach,  and  the  six  little 
mice  are  fine  prancing  horses.  The  man  now  discovers 
himself  to  be  fearfully  and  wonderfully  made.  He  is 
filled  with  awe  of  himself,  and  is  ready  to  exclaim,  Not 
my  will  but  thine  be  done — having  scarcely  the  power, 
and  not  at  all  the  wish  to  disobey  for  evermore.  And 
so  the  kingdom  is  for  the  third  time  adjudged  to 
Dummling. 

Page  99.  Yet,  one  more  trial  remains.  TVe  must 
all  pass  through  a  certain  mystical  ring,  which  hangs 
in  the  middle  of  the  Hall.  There  is  but  one  thing  in 
the  universe  that  can  do  this  unharmed.  If  the  reader 
needs  to  be  told  what  it  is,  let  him  look  forward  till 
his  eye  rests  upon  the  termination  of  his  earthly  pil- 


.♦.-- 


182  Interpretation. 

grimage,  and  ask  himself  in  what  spirit  he  would  wish 
to  rise  in  another  life ;  and  when  he  has  determined 
this  point  absolutely  within  himself,  and  has  appropri- 
ated that  spirit,  he  may  feel  secure  that  he  has  found 
the  victory  over  the  grave. 

This  spirit  is  the  beautiful  little  lady,  with  such 
transforming  power  as  to  make  a  splendid  coach  of  so 
humble  a  thing  as  a  turnip.  The  classical  student  may 
here  understand  that  this  same  turnip  has  had  the 
honor  of  carrying  Europa. 


-# 


INTEKPBETATION 


OF  THE  STOEY  OF 


THE   FOX'S    BRUSH. 

[Page  102.] 

"We  shall  not  have  completed  the  task  we  have 
assumed,  without  furnishing  some  hints  for  understand- 
ing the  most  mystical  and  profound  of  the  four  stories 
in  the  book.  The  writer  would  prefer  to  be  excused 
from  an  attempt  to  throw  light  upon  this  story  of  the 
Fox's  Brush,  lest  its  beauty  might  be  marred  by  his 
unskilfulness ;  but  he  has  already  ventured  too  far  in 
this  field  to  allow  of  hesitation  here,  and  he  will  there- 
fore go  on. 

We  will  remark,  in  the  first  place,  that  it  seems 
equally  impossible  to  us,  either  to  doubt  the  doctrine 
of  the  Trinity,  or  to  explain  it  to  what  is  called  the 
mere  reasoning  powers  of  man.  Converts  are  not 
made  to  this  doctrine  by  the  reasoning  faculties :  but 


184  Interpretation. 

these  are  not  the  only  faculties  in  man.  He  has  other 
powers  which  may  be  discovered  when  they  are  brought 
into  exercise.  God  does  not  exist  by  the  permission 
of  human  reason ;  neither  does  he  cease  to  be,  in  his 
attributes,  or  in  the  mystery  of  his  nature,  because 
man  may  say,  in  the  presumption  of  his  reason,  that  he 
cannot  find  out  the  Almighty,  or  cannot  find  out  the 
Almighty  in  the  perfection  of  his  eternal  nature.  The 
reader  may  have  noticed,  that  in  the  stories  thus  far 
interpreted,  although  there  is  in  all  of  them  an  innocent 
playfulness  and  a  childlike  freedom,  there  is  nothing  to 
encourage  the  presumption  of  man ;  but  everywhere, 
on  the  contrary,  we  see  the  doctrine  of  humility  held 
up  in  characters  of  light,  not  to  be  denied  but  by  a 
stupidity  which  is  below  all  possibility  of  being  reached 
by  instruction. 

In  the  story  of  the  Fox's  Brush,  what  are  called  the 
three  principles  appear  under- different  forms;  or,  as  in 
different  states  ;  or,  as  the  man  himself,  in  whom  they 
act,  is  in  a  more  or  less  perfect  state,  advancing  from 
immaturity  to  maturity.  One  design  of  this  story  is  to 
teach,  that  while  the  three   principles  act  separately 


The  Fox's  Brush.         185 

(though  in  a  mystical  sense  they  never  do  so),  they 
accomplish  nothing  towards  the  true  end  of  life.  It  is 
not  until  they  are  harmonized  that  they  act  with  ease 
and  with  power.  For  convenience  we  may,  as  hereto- 
fore, call  the  three  principles  the  affections  (including 
what  is  called  the  will),  the  reason,  and  the  conscience ; 
but  it  must  on  no  account  he  considered  that  these 
designations  are  final  or  definite  in  any  sense  palpable 
to  what  is  called  the  human  understanding. 

Premising  this  much,  we  look  at  the  commencement 
of  this  story,  and  read  of  a  king  of  the  East ;  of  a  beau- 
tiful garden ;  and  of  a  tree  that  bore  golden  apples,  and 
hardly  think  it  necessary  to  say,  that  these  pointings 
are  towards  the  paradise  of  Eden  or  the  garden  of 
God,  in  which,  as  in  this  story  also,  a  certain  offence  is 
said  to  have  been  committed.  But  now  we  leave  that 
story,  as  related  in  Genesis,  and  we  see  that  one  of  the 
three  principles,  called  the  eldest  (not  eldest  in  fact, 
but  first  in  manifestation,  it  may  be,  in  this  lower 
world),  was  "set  to  watch,"  in  order  to  discover  the 
mystery  of  the  disappearance  every  night  of  a  golden 
apple.     But  at  about  twelve  o'clock,  page  104,  he  fell 


186  Interpretation. 

asleep  ;  and  the  same  thing  happened  the  second  night 
to  the  second  son ;  and  at  last,  the  third  son,  though 
with  some  reluctance  on  the  part  of  the  gardener,  was 
set  to  watch,  and  did  not  sleep ;  but  as  the  clock  struck 
twelve,  the  hour  of  midnight  or  deepest  darkness,  he 
hears  a  rustling  noise  in  the  air  (or  spirit)  as  a  bird 
came  and  sat  upon  the  tree.  "  The  bird's  feathers  were 
all  of  pure  gold  "  (gold  being  the  symbol  of  truth) ;  and 
as  this  bird  is  represented  as  snapping  at  one  of  the 
apples,  we  may  consider  that  here,  whatever  the  gold- 
en bird  may  turn  out  to  be  in  the  further  develop- 
ment of  the  story,  he  figures  the  very  thief  who 
poaches  upon  the  fruit  of  the  royal  garden.  We  submit 
this  point  to  the  deep  consideration  of  the  reflecting, 
without  further  remark. 

Page  105.  An  arrow-shot,  from  the  unaided  con- 
science, fails  to  discover  the  truth,  but  brings  an  indi- 
cation of  it,  in  the  form  of  a  golden  feather  from  the 
tail  of  the  bird.  Even  this  slight  indication  of  the 
nature  of  what  is  sought,  when  brought  before  the 
king  and  council,  is  pronounced  to  be  the  most  beauti- 
ful thing  that  has  ever  been  seen,  and  worth  more  than 


# 


The  Fox's  Brush,         187 

all  the  wealth  of  the  kingdom.  This,  then,  is  the  grain 
of  mustard  seed — and  may  lead  to  the  treasure  hid  in  a 
field,  or  to  the  pearl  of  great  price,  to  purchase  which 
a  merchant  sold  all  he  had  and  bought  that  pearl. 
This  mere  glimpse  of  the  truth  performs  its  proper 
office,  arousing  a  desire  expressed  in  the  declaration  of 
the  king — "One  feather  is  of  no  use  to  me,  I  must 
and  will  have  the  whole  bird." 

The  king,  that  is,  the  man,  now  takes  the  first  step 
towards  a  discover y  of  the  truth,  which  may  be  called 
also  wisdom,  and  no  less  the  way  of  life.  It  does  not 
appear  to  him  a  difficult  task,  and  so  it  has  seemed  to 
multitudes  of  men,  who  only  discover  the  difficulty 
after  repeated  failures,  many  times  not  until  driven  to 
the  very  verge  of  desperation,  and  possibly  not  even 
then.  But  this  is  not  the  place  to  discuss  the  reasons 
for  this,  and  yet  we  feel  disposed  to  suggest  that  per- 
haps but  for  this  difficulty,  the  prize  might  not  have 
any  value  at  all. 

The  eldest  son  is  now  represented  as  going  out  to 
seek  or  search  for  the  golden  bird.  He  reaches  the 
"  wood,"  which  figures  the  world  in  so  many  of  these 


188  Interpretation. 

stories,  and  there  he  discovers,  by  the  side  of  the  wood, 
a  fox  sitting. 

The  student  should  well  consider  the  character  of 
this  Fox,  and  should  determine  whether  he  represents 
something  within  or  without  the  man.  He  may  have 
to  read  the  story  over  once,  at  least,  and  then  return 
to  it  again,  before  being  able  to  determine ;  but,  at  all 
events,  he  would  do  well  to  consider  this  point  mature- 
ly, and  decide  as  to  what  that  may  be,  which  for  con- 
venience may  here  be  called  the  man's  better  judg- 
ment, which,  in  the  character  of  the  Fox,  page  106, 
recommends  humility,  or  a  choice  of  the  plain  resi- 
dence in  preference  to  the  "  house  of  feasting."  Does 
not  Solomon  tell  us,  that  the  house  of  mourning  is 
better  than  the  house  of  feasting?  But  reason  is 
proud,  or  the  will  is  obstinate ;  and  here  the  story  may 
be  taken  either  way ;  for,  in  short,  as  in  the  story  of 
Dummling,  the  two  elder  brothers  turn  away  from  the 
lowliness  or  humility  with  which  wisdom  associates, 
and  are  captivated  by  what  is  called  the  world — its 
pleasures — or  its  "  vain  pomp  and  glory." 

Page  108.     The  two  elder  brothers,  failing  to  dis- 


The  Fox's  Brush.         189 

cover  the  golden  bird,  the  youngest  is  sent  in  search ; 
and  he,  by  his  obedience,  wins  some  recognition  from 
the  Fox,  and  obtains  some  assistance  from  him. 

Page  109.  The  Fox  invites  the  younger  brother  to 
take  a  seat  upon  his  tail,  promising  that  by  means  of 
it  he  may  travel  the  faster;  and  certainly  we  may 
suppose  that,  until  we  are  so  happy  as  to  reach  wisdom 
itself,  we  may  with  great  profit  accept  such  aid  as  may 
be  properly  called  its  tail,  to  wit,  what  it  has  scattered 
throughout  the  world  in  the  form  of  writings,  which 
have  proceeded  from  wise  men  of  old  as  they  were 
moved  by  the  Holy  Spirit;  for  such  writings  are, 
almost  without  a  figure,  the  very  tail  of  wisdom. 

After  a  night's  rest  in  the  plain  inn,  the  Fox  gives 
good  advice  the  next  day — to  "  go  straight  forward  to 
the  castle  [of  the  mind]  where  will  be  found  a  whole 
troop  of  soldiers  fast  asleep ;  "  that  is,  a  troop  of  quies- 
cent passions;  and  they  must  not  be  awakened  or 
roused  by  a  seeker  after  wisdom.  He  is  to  pass  by  the 
soldiers  to  a  certain  room,  where  he  will  find  the  gold- 
en bird  in  a  wooden  cage. 

Page  111.     Close  by  the  wooden  cage,  is  a  beauti- 


190  Interpretation. 

ful  golden  cage,  and  the  seeker  is  directed  not  to  at- 
tempt to  change  the  bird  from  the  plain  to  the  rich  or 
golden  cage.  We  see  here  the  unity  of  this  advice 
with  that  given  previously,  not  to  enter  the  gay  inn, 
bnt  to  rest  in  the  plain  one.  But  the  advice  in  this 
case  is  not  heeded.  The  consequence  of  this  disobedi- 
ence immediately  follows ;  for  whereas,  had  the  seeker 
obeyed,  he  might  have  completed  his  journey  at  the 
first  attempt,  he  is  now  put  back, 

Page  112,  and  has  to  take  an  intermediate  step, 
or,  as  we  may  say,  he  has  two  steps  to  take  instead  of 
one ;  for  he  is  sentenced  to  die  unless  he  can  bring  a 
certain  "golden  horse."  This  may  be  considered  a 
symbol  of  the  divine  reason ;  and  the  promise  is,  that 
if  the  seeker  [of  wisdom]  can  obtain  possession  of  the 
golden  horse,  he  shall  have  the  golden  bird  given  to  him 
for  his  own. 

Page  113.  The  Fox  again  gives  good  advice,  the 
very  same  as  before  in  another  form.  ■  The  young  man 
is  told  of  a  golden  saddle,  which  must  not  be  taken  in 
place  of  the  plain  leathern  one  ;  and  he  is  warned  that 
a  certain  "  groom  "  will  be  fonnd  fast  asleep  and  snoring. 


* 

-♦ 


The    Fox's    Brush.        191 

Page  114.  Everything  turns  out  as  the  Fox  had  de- 
scribed, The  "  groom  "  is  found  fast  asleep  with  his 
hand  upon  the  golden  saddle ;  but  now  the  young 
seeker  forgets  the  maxim  that  pride  goeth  before  a  fall, 
and  he  attempts  to  dress  up  a  divine  principle  in  world- 
ly trappings,  by  which  the  conscience,  the  groom  in 
this  case,  is  roused,  and  so  this  attempt  fails  as  the  first 
did ;  and  the  seeker  is  condemned  to  die,  unless  he 
brings  the  "  beautiful  princess  ;  "  but  if  he  does  this,  he 
is  to  have  the  horse ;  and  then,  by  the  previous  pro- 
mise, he  may  expect  the  bird  also,  so  that  all  three 
seem  to  depend  upon  the '  possession  of  the  princess. 
The  groom  being  asleep  with  his  hand  upon  the  golden 
saddle,  signifies  that  the  conscience  is  in  repose  so  long 
as  no  attempt  is  made  to  violate  its  treasure. 

Page  115.  The  young  man  is  now  told  that  at 
twelve  o'clock  at  night  the  princess  goes  to  the  bath  ; 
and  that,  as  she  passes,  he  must  salute  her  with  a  kiss, 
and  she  will  then  allow  herself  to  be  led  away. 

Twelve  o'clock  at  night  is  the  hour  of  darkness, 
and  is  often  taken  in  mystic  stories  as  the  hour  of  deep- 
est sorrow  and  gloom,  when  the  soul  is  said  to  enter 


13 


192  Interpretation. 

the  bath  of  affliction,  and  if  we  accept  this  by  a  kiss, 
as  a  divine  blessing,  a  beautiful  mystery  follows,  not 
unlike  that  of  the  transformation  of  the  toad,  the  tur- 
nip, and  the  mice,  in  the  story  of  Dummling. 

The  Mystic  Bath  supposes  the  soul  to  be  confronted 
with,  and  overpowered  by  great  Nature  in  her  unvaried 
or  unvarying  walk  in  obedience  to  the  Spirit  of  God. 
It  may  be  met  in  many  ways.  The  intellect,  in  her 
search  after  knowledge,  may  be  defeated,  and  thus  dis- 
cover the  limitations  put  upon  it  by  the  power  of  God. 
The  affections  may  be  broken  and  prostrated  by  the 
loss  of  objects  dear  to  them,  and  may  realize  a  positive 
inability  in  themselves  to  reinstate  peace  in  the  soul, 
and  this  without  supposing  the  will  compromised  in 
the  cause.  The  conscience  may  also  be  violated,  dis- 
covering to  the  sinner  the  weakness  of  a  will  unsup- 
ported by  divine  influences.  In  all  cases,  the  Bath 
supposes  a  sense  of  the  limitations  upon  the  soul,  utter- 
ly prostrating  what  is  called  the  pride  of  man.  The 
condition  of  the  soul  in  this  state  is  figured  by  the 
darkest  hour  of  night ;  and  now,  when  the  soul  accepts 
these  limitations  as  a  divine  appointment,  figured  by  a 


The   Fox's    Brush.        193 

kiss,  it  passes,  by  that  fact,  into  a  higher  state.  It  can- 
not be  simulated  or  assumed  in  any  case,  for  a  worldly 
or  profane  purpose.  It  requires,  on  the  contrary,  a  to- 
tal and  absolute  submission  to  the  power  of  God,  not 
conceived  as  a  blind  force,  but  as  a  divine  intelli- 
gence ;  and  it  is  not  to  be  doubtedT  that  many  attain 
to  it,  who  truly  know  not  whence  the  spirit  came 
by  which  they  are  animated,  or  whither  it  leads  them. 

Page  116.  All  turns  out  aright  this  time.  The 
young  man  is  obedient  and  obtains  possession  of  the 
princess. 

But  he  had  been  cautioned,  that  when  the  princess 
is  in  his  possession,  she  must  on  no  account  be  allowed 
to  take  leave  of  her  father  and  mother.  This  seems,  at 
first  view,  a  very  severe  prohibition,  but  there  is  abun- 
dant authority  for  it  in  Scripture-  We  are  not  only 
warned  by  the  fate  of  Lot's  wife,  but  we  read, — He 
that  loveth  father  or  mother  more  than  me  is  not  wor- 
thy of  me  : — as  if  we  are  told,  that  he  who  would  en- 
ter into  wisdom  must  not  put  into  competition  with  his 
love  of  it,  the  love  of  father  or  mother,  the  love  of 
son  or  daughter.    "We  now  see  that  this  trial  was  too 


194  Interpretation. 

great  for  the  young  man,  and  he  again  becomes  a  pris- 
oner, and  as  this  last  disobedience  seems  to  have  pro- 
ceeded from  what  may  be  called  worldliness,  he  is  told 
that  he  shall  never  have  the  princess  unless  in  eight 
days  he  removes  a  certain  hill  (an  obstruction  to  spir- 
itual vision),  called  in  Matthew  (xvii,  20)  a  mountain. 
"Now  this  hill  [of  sin,  or  worldliness]  was  so  big  (says 
the  story)  that  all  the  men  in  the  whole  world  could 
not  have  taken  it  away  :  and  when  he  had  worked  for 
eeven  days,  and  had  done  very  little,  the  Fox  came  and 
said,  "  Lie  down  and  go  to  sleep !  I  will  work  for 
you." 

Page  117.  And  here  we  see  the  power  of  faith, 
which  is  able  to  remove  mountains ;  for,  "  In  the  morn- 
ing (as  the  story  continues),  when  he  awoke,  the  hill 
was  gone."  This  last  trial  of  his  faith  gave  the  young 
man  the  princess,  with  whom  he  seems  at  first  satis- 
fied :  and  so  it  is  with  many  seekers  after  the  Truth. 
They  reach  perhaps  some  phase  of  it,  or  some,  for  the 
time,  satisfactory  aspect  of  it,  and  at  once  jump  to  the 
conclusion  that  they  have  all  they  need,  if  they  have 
not  sounded  the  deepest  depths  of  philosophy.     But 


The   Fox's    Brush.        195 

the  Fox  soon  appears,  and  says, — t;  That  will  not  do; 
we  will  have  all  three, — the  princess,  the  horse,  and  the 
bird,"  which  seems  to  the  young  man  a  very  great 
thing,  and  he  wonders  how  that  can  be ;  to  which  the 
Fox  answers,  "If  you  will  only  listen  [that  is,  if  you 
will  only  be  obedient],  it  can  soon  be  done." 

Page  118.  "  When  you  come  to  the  king  of  the 
castle  (says  the  Fox)  where  the  golden  horse  is,  and  he 
asks  for  the  beautiful  princess,  you  must  say,  '  Here  she 
is.'  "  This  is  a  deep  point,  and  can  hardly  be  made  less 
so  by  any  mere  discussion.  Nothing  is  more  common, 
it  is  true,  than  to  hear  the  doctrine,  as  an  every-day  ut- 
terance, that  God  is  everywhere,  or  that  the  Spirit  of 
God  is  everywhere ;  but  who,  of  all  those  who  daily 
utter  this  divine  dogma,  have  any  living  sense  of  it,  or 
whose  lives  manifest  any  signs  that  this  truth  or  this 
sentiment  has  entered  their  souls?  In  one  word, — we 
cannot  answer — Here  she  is, — until  we  accept  her  to 
the  heart,  precisely  in  the  sense  in  which  the  Holy 
Mother  was  received  at  the  foot  of  the  cross  by  the 
loved  disciple,  to  whose  "  home,"  that  is,  to  whose 
heart  she  was  taken.     John  xix,  25-27. 


196  In  t  e  rp  ret  at  ion. 

The  spirit  having  come,  a  separation  must  now  take 
place  between  the  young  man  and  all  other  things,  as 
things ;  for  particular  things  must  all  be  merged  in  the 
universal.  "Now,  therefore  (as  we  read  in  the  Law), 
make  confession  unto  the  Loed  God  of  your  fathers, 
and  do  his  pleasure :  and  separate  yourselves  from  the 
people  [or  common  principles]  of  the  land,  and  from 
the  strange  wives," — that  is,  separate  yourselves  from 
all  love  but  the  love  of  God,  or,  from  the  love  of  all 
things  except  as  they  are  loved  in  God ;  for  this  doc- 
trine proposes  nothing  impossible. 

Page  119.  And  now,  one  of  the  three  principles 
being  in  the  young  man's  possession,  the  others  fq^low, 
for  a  reason  which  is  very  simple ;  that,  in  a  mystical 
sense,  the  three  are  one. 

But  the  young  man  is  still  in  the  wood,  or  the 
world,  and  has  need  yet  of  the  advice  of  the  Fox,  who 
makes  the  extraordinary  request,  that  the  young  man 
shall  kill  him,  and  cut  off  his  head  and  his  brush — 
which  he  is  not  yet  prepared  to  do,  and  so  needs  anoth- 
er lesson. 

Page  120.     This  lesson  is,  that  he  must  "beware  of 


The  Fox's  Brush.         197 

two  things:"  he  must  not  ransom  anyone  from  the 
gallows  (a  caution  against  false  pity),  nor  must  he  sit 
down  hy  the  side  of  a  brook  (or  must  not  give  himself 
up  to  ease  and  indulgence),  while  passing  forward  to 
that  crown  which  is  only  reached  by  the  cross. 

Page  122.  Here  again,  once  more,  we  find  the  one 
sin,  disobedience,  and  its  consequences  follow :  for  we 
now  see  that  the  false  brothers,  who  had  just  been  res- 
cued from  the  gallows,  attempt  the  destruction  of  their 
benefactor,  and  endeavor  to  appropriate  all  of  his  suc- 
cess to  their  own  use.  They  seize  the  horse,  the  bird, 
and  the  princess,  and  go  with  them  to  the  king  as  the 
fruit  of  their  labor  (or  virtues);  but  the  principles  can- 
not be  appropriated  by  fraud  and  violence  :  "the  horse 
would  not  eat,  the  bird  would  not  sing,  and  the  princess 
sat  by  herself  in  her  chamber,  and  wept  bitterly." 

Page  123.  The  Fox  again  helps  the  young  man  out 
of  difficulty,  and,  by  means  of  his  brush,  as  before, 
for  he  has  not  yet  entered  into  perfect  freedom  by  per- 
fect obedience. 

Page  124.  But  he  is  now  very  near  that  perfection 
which  is  to  make  him  a  master,  for  which  purpose,  the 


198  In  t  e  rp  relation. 

Fox  completes  his  character  by  representing  him  as  a 
pipee,  the  symbol  of  harmony  ;  and  now  the  horse  be- 
gins to  eat,  the  bird  to  sing,  and  the  princess  leaves  off 
weeping — and  the  young  man  is  married  to  the  prin- 
cess. 

This  is  the  conjugal  marriage  of  which  Swedenborg 
has  so  much  to  say,  without  perhaps  making  it  clear  to 
any  one  who  did  not  understand  it  independently  of 
the  Swede's  teachings;  and  how  theu  can  there  be  any 
hope  of  making  it  plain  here  ? 

Page  125.  One  more  lesson  seems  to  be  needed. 
The  Fox  implores  the  young  man  with  tears  in  his  eyes 
to  be  so  kind  as  to  cut  off  his  head  and  his  brush ;  and 
it  is  not  until  after  this  is  done  that  the  Prince  is  re- 
vealed in  the  Fox, — the  same  prince  who  figures  in  so 
many  of  these  Fairy  Tales ;  as,  in  the  Story  of  the 
White  Dove,  where  he  is  seen  in  the  transformed  tree. 

It  would  be  an  endless  task  to  show  in  how  many 
forms  this  teaching  has  come  down  to  us  from  antiqui- 
ty, and  has  been  repeated  from  one  age  to  another, 
even  down  to  the  Fairy  Tale  in  the  Story  of  the  Ger- 
man Emigrants,  where  they  appear  as  two  will-o'-the- 


The  Fox's   Brush.         199 

wisps.  The  lesson,  to  avoid  extremes  (Scylla  and  Cha- 
rybdis),  is  simple  enough  when  put  into  a  plain  maxim, 
and  is  no  other  than  that  of  Pythagoras,  expressed  in 
the  brief  phrase — nothing  too  much ;  which  leaves  it 
still  an  open  question,  as  to  what  is  just  enough.  In 
the  sacred  allegories  they  are  called  two  thieves  or  two 
malefactors,  though  in  one  of  those  histories  they  are 
called  simply  '*'  two  others." 

Ill,  this  story  of  the  Fox's  Brush,  no  sooner  does  the 
unity  appear,  after  the  extremes  are  cut  off,  than  imme- 
diately a  duality  arises  again,  it  being  discovered  that 
the  prince  is  the  brother  of  the  princess ;  and  so  he  is, 
and  these  two  are  one  again,  or  they  are  as  like,  the 
one  to  the  other,  as  is  God  and  his  works;  and  whoso 
separates  these,  in  his  speculations,  denies  to  himself 
the  knowledge  of  both. 


[We  have  concluded  to  add  to  the  preceding  inter- 
pretations, the  Story' of  Faithful  John,  taken  from  the 
first  volume  of  Grimm's  Popular  Tales,  Boston,  1862, — 
and  will  add  explanatory  notes,  as  in  the  Story  of  the 
Eed  Book  of  Appin.  Many  may  he  surprised  to  find 
how  extensively  this  mode  of  writing  has  prevailed  in 
times  past,  and  might  perhaps  be  well  employed,  if  at 
leisure,  in  ascertaining  its  history,  origin,  and  purpose. 
We  may  be  sure  there  were  reasons  for  it,  and  it  may 
be  a  serious  inquiry,  as  to  whether  those  reasons  have 
or  have  not  passed  away.] 


FAITHFUL  JOHN. 

Once  upon  a  time  there  lived  an  old 
king  [note  1],  who  fell  very  sick,  and 
thought  he  was  lying  upon  his  death- 
bed ;  so  he  said,  "  Let  faithful  John  come 
to  rne'1  [2].  This  faithful  John  was  his 
affectionate  servant,  and  was  so  called 
because  he  had  been  true  to  him  all  his 
lifetime.  As  soon  as  John  came  to  the 
bedside,  the  king  said,  "My  faithful 
John,  I  feel  that  my  end  approaches,  and 
I  have  no  other  care  than  about  my  son 
[3],  who  is  still  so  young  that  he  cannot 
always  guide  himself  aright.     If  you  do 


204  Faithful    John. 

not  promise  to  instruct  hini  in  everything 
lie  ought  to  know,  and  to  be  his  guard- 
ian, I  cannot  close  mine  eyes  in  peace." 
Then  John  answered,  "I  will  never  leave 
him ;  I  will  always  serve  him  truly,  even 
if  it  cost  me  my  life  "  [4],  So  the  old 
king  was  comforted,  and  said,  "Now  I 
can  die  in  peace  [5].  After  my  death 
you  must  show  him  all  the  chambers, 
halls,  and  vaults  in  the  castle  [6],  and  all 
the  treasures  which  are  in  them  ;  but  the 
last  room  [7]  in  the  long  corridor  you 
must  not  show  him,  for  in  it  hangs  the 
portrait  of  the  daughter  of  the  King  of 
the  Golden  Palace  [8]  ;  if  he  sees  her 
picture  he  will  conceive  a  great  love  for 
her,  and  will  fall  down  in  a  swoon,  and 


Faithful   John.  205 

on  her  account  undergo  great  perils; 
therefore  you  must  keep  him  away."  The 
faithful  John  pressed  his  master's  hand 
again,  in  token  of  assent,  and  soon  after 
the  king  laid  his  head  upon  the  pillow 
[9]  and  expired. 

After  the  old  king  had  been  laid  in 
his  grave,  the  faithful  John  related  to 
the  young  king  all  that  his  father  had 
said  upon  his  deathbed,  and  declared, 
"  All  this  I  will  certainly  fulfil ;  I  will  be 
as  true  to  you  as  I  was  to  him,  if  it  cost 
me  my  life."  When  the  time  of  mourn- 
ing was  passed,  John  said  to  the  young 
king,  "It  is  now  time  for  you  to  see 
your  inheritance;  I  will  show  you  your 
paternal  castle"   [10].      So  he  led  the 


206  Faithful   John. 

king  all  over  it,  up  stairs  and  down  stairs, 
and  showed  him  all  the  riches,  and  all 
the  splendid  chambers ;  only  one  room 
he  did  not  open,  containing  the  perilous 
portrait  [11],  which  was  so  placed  that 
one  saw  it  directly  the  door  was  opened, 
and,  moreover,  it  was  so  beautifully  paint- 
ed that  one  thought  it  breathed  and 
moved ;  nothing  in  all  the  world  could 
be  more  life-like  or  more  beautiful.  The 
young  king  remarked,  however,  that  the 
faithful  John  always  passed  by  one  door, 
so  he  asked,  "  Why  do  you  not  open  that 
one  ? "  [12].  "  There  is  something  in  it," 
he  replied,  "  which  will  frighten  you." 

But  the  king  said,  "  I  have  seen  all 
the  rest  of  the  castle,  and  I  will  know 


Faithful   John.  207 

what  is  in  there"  [13]  ;  and  he  went  and 
tried  to  open  the  door  by  force.  The 
faithful  John  pulled  him  back,  and  said, 
"I  promised  your  father  before  he  died 
that  you  should  not  see  the  contents  of 
that  room ;  it  would  bring  great  misfor- 
tunes both  upon  you  and  me." 

"Oh,  no,"  replied  the  young  king, 
"  if  I  do  not  go  in,  it  will  be  my  certain 
ruin ;  I  should  have  no  peace  night  nor 
day  until  I  had  seen  it  with  my  own 
eyes.  Now  I  will  not  stir  from  the  place 
till  you  unlock  the  door." 

Then  the  faithful  John  saw  that  it 
was  of  no  use  talking,  so,  with  a  heavy 
heart  and  many  sighs,  he  picked  the  key 
out  of  the  great  bunch  [14].     When  he 

14 


208  Faithful    John. 

had  opened  the  door  he  went  in  first,  and 
thought  he  would  cover  up  the  picture, 
that  the  king  should  not  see  it ;  but  it 
was  of  no  use,  for  the  king  stepped  upon 
tiptoes  and  looked  over  his  shoulder; 
and  as  soon  as  he  saw  the  portrait  of  the 
maiden,  which  was  so  beautiful  and  glit- 
tered with  precious  stones,  he  fell  down 
on  the  ground  insensible  [15].  The 
faithful  John  lifted  him  up  and  carried 
him  to  his  bed,  and  thought  with  great 
concern,  "  Mercy  on  us  !  the  misfortune 
has  happened ;  what  will  come  of  it  ?" 
and  he  gave  the  young  king  wine  until 
he  came  to  himself  [16].  The  first  words 
he  spoke  were,  "  Ah,  who  is  that  beauti- 
ful picture? "    "That  is  the  daughter  of 


Faithful   John.  209 

the  King  of  the  Golden  Palace,"  was  the 
reply. 

"  Then,"  said  the  king,  "  my  love  for 
her  is  so  great  that  if  all  the  leaves  on 
the  trees  had  tongues  they  should  not 
gainsay  it ;  my  life  is  set  upon  the  search 
for  her.  You  are  my  faithful  John ;  you 
must  accompany  me  "-  [17]. 

The  trusty  servant  deliberated  for  a 
long  while  how  to  set  about  this  busi- 
ness, for  it  was  very  difficult  to  get  into 
the  presence  of  the  king's  daughter  [18]. 
At  last  he  bethought  himself  of  a  way, 
and  said  to  the  'king,  "  Everything  that 
she  has  around  her  is  of  gold — chairs, 
tables,  dishes,  bowls,  and  all  the  house- 
hold utensils.    Among  your  treasures  are 


210  Faithful   J  oh 


n. 


five  tons  of  gold ;  let  one  of  the  gold- 
smiths of  your  kingdom  manufacture 
vessels  and  utensils  of  all  kinds  there- 
from— all  kinds  of  birds,  and  wild  and 
wonderful  beasts,  such  as  will  please  her ; 
then  we  will  travel  with  these  and  try 
our  luck.  Then  the  king  summoned  all 
his  goldsmiths,  who  worked  day  and 
night  until  many  very  beautiful  things 
were  ready.  When  all  had  been  placed 
on  board  a  ship,  the  faithful  John  put  on 
merchant's  clothes,  and  the  king  likewise, 
so  that  they  might  travel  quite  unknown 
[19].  Then  they  sailed  over  the  wide 
sea,  and  sailed  away  until  they  came  to 
the  city  where  dwelt  the  daughter  of  the 
king  of  the  golden  palace  [20]. 


Faithful   John.  211 

The  faithful  John  told  the  king  to 
remain  in  the  ship  and  wait  for  him  [21]. 
"  Perhaps,"  said  he,  "  I  shall  bring  the 
king's  daughter  with  me ;  therefore  take 
care  that  all  is  in  order,  and  set  out  the 
golden  vessels  and  adorn  the  whole 
ship  "  [22].  Thereupon  John  placed  in 
a  napkin  some  of  the  golden  cups,  step- 
ped upon  land,  and  went  straight  to  the 
king's  palace  [23].  When  he  came  into 
the  castle  yard  [24],  a  beautiful  maid 
[25]  stood  by  the  brook,  who  had  two 
golden  pails  in  her  hand,  drawing  water ; 
and  when  she  had  filled  [26]  them,  and 
had  turned  round  [27],  she  saw  a 
strange  man,  and  asked  who  .he  was. 
Then   John   answered,    "  I   am   a   mer- 


212  Faithful   John, 

chant,"  and  opening  his  napkin,  he 
showed  her  its  contents.  Then  she  ex- 
claimed, "  Oh,  what  beautiful  golden 
things  !  "  and  setting  the  pails  down,  she 
looked  at  the  cups  one  after  another,  and 
said,  "The  kings  daughter  must  see 
these ;  she  is  so  pleased  with  anything 
made  of  gold,  that  she  will  buy  all 
these."  And  taking  him  by  the  hand 
she  led  him  in,  for  she  was  the  lady's 
maid.  When  the  king's  daughter  saw 
the  golden  cups  she  was  much  pleased, 
and  said,  "They  are  so  finely  worked 
that  I  will  purchase  them  all."  But  the 
faithful  John  replied,  "  I  am  only  the 
servant  of  a  rich  merchant  [28]  ;  what  I 
have  here  is  nothing  in  comparison  to 


Faithful   John.  213 

those  which  my  master  has  in  his  ship, 
than  which  nothing  more  delicate  or 
costly  has  ever  been  worked  in  gold." 
Then  the  king's  daughter  wished  to  have 
them  all  brought,  but  he  said,  u  It  would 
take  many  days,  and  so  great  is  the 
quantity  that  your  palace  has  not  halls 
enough  in  it  to  place  them  around  "  [29]. 
Then  her  curiosity  and  desire  was  still 
more  excited,  and  at  last  she  said,  "Take 
me  to  the  ship  ;  I  will  go  myself  and 
look  at  your  master's  treasure  "  [30]. 

The  faithful  John  conducted  her  to 
the  ship  [31]  with  great  joy,  and  the 
king,'  when  he  beheld  her,  saw  that 
her  beauty  was  still  greater  than  the 
picture      [32]     had     represented,     and 


214  Faithful   John. 

thought  nothing  else  but  that  his  heart 
would  jump  out  of  his  mouth.  Present- 
ly she  stepped  on  board,  and  the  king 
conducted  her  below;  but  the  faithful 
John  remained  on  deck  by  the  steers- 
man, and  told  him  to  unmoor  the  ship 
and  put  on  all  the  sail  he  could,  that  it 
might  fly  as  a  bird  in  the  air.  Mean- 
while the  king  showed  the  princess  all 
the  golden  treasures — the  dishes,  cups, 
bowls,  the  birds,  the  wild  and  wonderful 
beasts.  Many  hours  passed  away  while 
she  looked  at  everything,  and  in  her  joy 
she  did  not  remark  that  the  ship  sailed 
on  and  on  [33].  As  soon  as  she  had 
looked  at  the  last,  and  thanked  the  mer- 
chant, she  wished  to  depart.     But  when 


Faithful   John.  215 

she  came  on  deck  she  perceived  that 
they  were  upon  the  high  sea,  far  from 
the  shore,  and  were  hastening  on  with 
all  sail.  "  Ah !  "  she  exclaimed  in  af- 
fright, "  I  am  betrayed ;  I  am  carried  off 
and  taken  away  in  the  power  of  a 
strange  merchant.  I  would  rather  die  !  " 
[34]. 

But  the  king,  taking  her  by  the  hand, 
said,  "  I  am  not  a  merchant,  but  a  king, 
tbine  equal  in  birth  [35].  It  is  true  that 
I  have  carried  thee  off,  but  that  is  be- 
cause of  my  overwhelming  love  for  thee. 
Dost  thou  know  that  when  I  first  saw 
the  portrait  of  thy  beauteous  face  that  I 
fell  down  in  a  swoon  before  it  ? "  When 
the  king's  daughter  heard  these  words  she 


216  Faithful   John. 

was  reassured,  and  her  heart  was  inclined 
towards  him,  so  that  she  willingly  be- 
came his  bride.  While  they  thus  went 
on  their  voyage  on  the  high  sea,  it  hap- 
pened that  the  faithful  John,  as  he  sat 
on  the  deck  of  the  ship  playing  music, 
saw  three  crows  in  the  air,  who  came  fly- 
ing towards  them.  He  stopped  playing 
and  listened  to  what  they  were  saying  to 
each  other,  for  he  understood  them  per- 
fectly. The  first  one  exclaimed,  "  There 
he  is,  carrying  home  the  daughter  of  the 
King  of  the  Golden  Palace."  "  But  he  is 
not  home  yet,"  replied  the  second.  "  But 
he  has  her,"  said  the  third ;  "  she  is  sit- 
ting by  him  in  the  ship."  Then  the 
first  began  again  and  exclaimed,  "  What 


# 


Faithful   J  oh  7i.  217 

matters  that  ?  When  they  go  on  shore, 
a  fox-colored  horse  [36]  will  spring  to- 
wards him,  on  which  he  will  mount ;  and 
as  soon  as  he  is  on,  it  will  jump  up  with 
him  into  the  air,  so  that  he  will  never 
again  see  his  bride."  The  second  one 
said,  "  Is  there  no  escape  !  "  "  Oh,  yes,  if 
another  gets  on  quickly  and  takes  the 
firearms  which  are  in  the  holster  out, 
and  with  them  shoots  the  horse  dead, 
then  the  young  king  will  be  saved.  But 
who  knows  that  ?  And  if  any  one  does 
know  it,  and  tells  him,  such  an  one  will 
be  turned  to  stone  from  the  toe  to  the 
knee."  Then  the  second  spake  again, 
"  I  know  still  more ;  if  the  horse  should 
be  killed,  the  young  king  will  not  then 


218  Faithful   John. 

retain  his  bride ;  for  when  they  come 
into  the  castle,  a  beautiful  bridal  shirt 
(37)  will  lie  there  upon  a  dish,  and  seem 
to  be  woven  of  gold  and  silver,  but  it  is 
nothing  but  sulphur  and  pitch,  and  if  he 
puts  it  on,  it  will  burn  him  to  his  marrow 
and  bones."  Then  the  third  crow  asked, 
"  Is  there  no  escape  i  "  "  Oh,  yes,"  an- 
swered the  second ;  "  if  some  one  takes 
up  the  shirt  with  his  gloves  on,  and 
throws  it  into  the  fire  so  that  it  is  burnt, 
the  young  king  will  be  saved.  But  what 
does  that  signify  ?  Whoever  knows  it, 
and  tells  him,  will  be  turned  to  stone 
from  his  knee  to  his  heart."  Then  the 
third  crow  spake  :  "  I  know  still  more  ; 
even  if  the  bridal  shirt  be  consumed,  still 


Faithful   John.  219 

the  young  king  will  not  retain  his  bride. 
For  if,  after  the  wedding,  a  dance  is  held, 
while  the  young  queen  dances  (38)  she 
will  suddenly  turn  pale,  and  fall  down  as 
if  dead ;  and  if  some  one  does  not  raise 
her  up,  and  take  three  drops  of  blood 
from  her  right  breast  and  throw  them 
away,  she  will  die.  But  whoever  knows 
that,  and  tells  it,  will  have  his  whole 
body  turned  to  stone,  from  the  crown  of 
his  head  to  the  toe  of  his  foot." 

After  the  crows  had  thus  talked 
with  one  another,  they  flew  away,  and 
the  trusty  John,  who  had  perfectly  un- 
derstood all  they  had  said,  was  from  that 
time  very  quiet  and  sad;  for  if  he  con- 
cealed  from  his   master  what   he   had 


220  Faithful   John, 

heard,  misfortune  would  happen  to  him ; 
and  if  he  told  him  all,  he  must  give  up 
his  own  life.  But  at  last  he  thought,  "  I 
will  save  my  master,  even  if  I  destroy 
myself.'1 

As  soon  as  they  came  on  shore  it 
happened  just  as  the  crow  had  foretold, 
and  an  immense  fox-red  horse  sprang  up. 
"  Capital !  "  said  the  king  ;  "  this  shall 
carry  me  to  my  castle,"  and  he  tried  to 
mount ;  but  the  faithful  John  came 
straight  up,  and,  swinging  himself  quick- 
ly on,  drew  the  firearms  out  of  the  hol- 
ster and  shot  the  horse  dead.  Then  the 
other  servants  of  the  king,  who  were  not 
on  good  terms  with  the  faithful  John, 
exclaimed,  "  How  shameful  to   kill  the 


Faithful   John.  221 

beautiful  creature,  which  might  have 
borne  the  king  to  the  castle  !  "  But  the 
king  replied,  aBe  silent,  and  let  him  go ; 
he  is  my  very  faithful  John — who  knows 
the  good  he  may  have  done?"  JSTow 
they  went  into  the  castle,  and  there 
stood  a  dish  in  the  hall,  and  the  splendid 
bridal  shirt  lay  in  it,  and  seemed  noth- 
ing else  than  gold  and  silver.  The 
young  king  went  up  to  it  and  wished  to 
take  it  up,  but  the  faithful  John  pushed 
him  away,  and,  taking  it  up  with  his 
gloves  on,  bore  it  quickly  to  the  fire  and 
let  it  burn.  The  other  servants  there- 
upon began  to  murmur,  saying,  "  See, 
now  he  is  burning  the  king's  bridal 
shirt !  "     But  the  young  king  replied, 


222  Faithful   John. 

"  Who  knows  what  good  he  has  done  ? 
Let  him  alone — he  is  my  faithful  John." 
Soon  after,  the  wedding  was  cele- 
brated, and  a  grand  ball  was  given,  and 
the  bride  began  to  dance.  So  the  faith- 
ful John  paid  great  attention,  and 
watched  her  countenance ;  all  at  once 
she  grew  pale,  and  fell  as  if  dead  to  the 
ground.  Then  he  sprang  up  hastily, 
raised  her  up  and  bore  her  to  a  chamber, 
where  he  laid  her  down,  kneeled  beside 
her,  and,  drawing  the  three  drops  of 
blood  out  of  her  right  breast,  threw 
them  away.  As  soon  as  she  breathed 
again,  she  raised  herself  up;  but  the 
young  king  had  witnessed  everything, 
and  not  knowing  why  the  faithful  John 


Faithful   John.  223 

had  done  this,  was  very  angry,  and  call- 
ed out,  "  Throw  him  into  prison ! "  The 
next  morning  the  trusty  John  was 
brought  up  for  trial,  and  led  to  the  gal- 
lows; and  as  he  stood  upon  them,  and 
was  about  to  be  executed,  he  said,  "  Every 
one  condemned  to  die  may  once  before 
his  death  speak ;  shall  I  also  have  that 
privilege  ?  "  "  Yes,"  answered  the  king, 
"it  shall  be  granted  to  you."  Then  the 
faithful  John  replied,  "  I  have  been  un- 
righteously judged,  and  have  always 
been  true  to  you ;  "  and  he  narrated  the 
conversation  of  the  crows  which  he 
heard  at  sea ;  and  how,  in  order  to  save 
his  master,  he  was  obliged  to  do  all  he 
had   done.     Then   the   king   cried   out, 

15 


224  Faithful  John. 

11  Oh,  my  most  trusty  John,  pardon,  par- 
don ;  lead  him  away  !  "  But  the  trusty 
John  had  fallen  down  at  the  last  word 
and  was  turned  into  stone  (39). 

At  this  event  both  the  king  and  the 
queen  were  in  great  grief,  and  the  king 
asked,  u  Ah,  how  wickedly  have  I  re- 
warded his  great  fidelity  !  "  and  he  had 
the  stone  statue  raised  up  and  placed  in 
his  sleeping  chamber,  near  his  bed ;  and 
as  often  as  he  looked  at  it  he  wept  and 
said,  "  Ah,  could  I  bring  you  back  to  life 
again,  my  faithful  John ! "  (40). 

After  some  time  had  passed,  the 
queen  bore  twins,  two  little  sons,  who 
were  her  great  joy.  Once,  when  the 
queen  was  in  church,  and  the  two  chil- 


Faithful   John.  225 

dren  at  home  playing  by  their  father's 
side,  he  looked  up  at  the  stone  statue 
full  of  sorrow,  and  exclaimed  with  a 
sigh,  "Ah,  could  I  restore  you  to  life, 
my  faithful  John!"  (41.)  At  these 
words  the  stone  began  to  speak,  say- 
ing, "Yes,  you  can  make  me  alive 
again,  if  you  will  bestow  on  me  that 
which  is  dearest  to  you."  The  king  re- 
plied, "All  that  I  have  in  the  world  I 
will  give  up  for  you."  The  stone  spake 
again :  "  If  you,  with  your  own  hand, 
cut  off  the  heads  of  both  your  children 
and  sprinkle  me  with  their  blood,  I  shall 
be  brought  to  life  again  "  [42].  The 
king  was  terrified  when  he  heard  that 
he  must  himself  kill  his  two  dear  chil- 


226  Faithful   John. 

dren ;  but  lie  remembered  his  servant's 
great  fidelity,  and  how  the  faithful  John 
had  died  for  him,  and  drawing  his 
sword  he  cut  off  the  heads  of  both  his 
children  with  his  own  hand.  And  as 
soon  as  he  had  sprinkled  the"  stone  with 
the  blood,  the  life  came  back  to  it,  and 
the  trusty  John  stood  again  alive  and 
well  before  him,  and  said,  "  Your  faith 
shall  not  go  unrewarded ; "  and  taking 
the  heads  of  the  two  children,  he  set 
them  on  again,  and  anointed  their 
wounds  with  their  blood,  and  thereupon 
they  healed  again  in  a  moment,  and  the 
children  sprang  away  and  played  as  if 
nothing  had  happened. 

Now  the  king  was  full  of  happiness, 


Faithful   John.  227 

and  as  soon  as  he  saw  the  queen  coming 
he  hid  the  faithful  John  and  both  the 
children  in  a  great  cupboard.  As  soon 
as  she  came  in  he  said  to  her,  "  Have 
you  prayed  in  the  church  ?  "  "  Yes," 
she  answered  ;  "  but  I  thought  continu- 
ally of  the  faithful  John,  who  has  come 
to  such  misfortune  through  us."  Then 
he  replied,  "My  dear  wife,  we  can  re- 
store his  life  again  to  him,  but  it  will 
cost  us  both  our  little  sons,  whom  we 
must  sacrifice."  The  queen  became  pale 
and  was  terrified  at  heart,  but  she  said, 
"  We  are  guilty  of  his  life  on  account  of 
his  great  fidelity."  Then  he  was  very 
glad  that  she  thought  as  he  did,  and 
going  up  to  the  cupboard  he  unlocked 
_ — <e> 


t 

228  Faithful   John. 

it,  brought  out  the  children  and  the 
faithful  John,  saying,  "  God  be  praised  ! 
he  is  saved,  and  we  have  still  our  little 
sons ;"  and  then  he  told  her  all  that  had 
happened.  Afterward  they  lived  hap- 
pily together  to  the  end  of  their  days. 


INTERPRETATION 

OF    THE    STORY    OF 

FAITHFUL     JOHN. 

Before  reading  the  following  interpretation  of  the 
story  of  Faithful  John,  the  reader  is  supposed  to  have 
read  the  story  itself,  and  to  have  it  at  hand  for  refer- 
ence. 

In  order  to  understand  this  story  it  is  necessary,  in 
the  first  place,  to  determine  who  or  what  is  represented 
by  the  old  King ;  but,  for  this  purpose,  there  are  very 
few  elements,  apart  from  the  general  current  of  the 
story  and  an  acquaintance  with  the  style  of  mystical 
writing  in  use  when  such  stories  were  written. 

There  are  three  possible  suppositions  with  respect  to 
the  old  King,  to  either  one  of  which  a  common  inter- 
pretation will  apply.  We  may  suppose  the  old  King  to  be 
simply  an  aged  man,  whose  son  we  may  understand  to  be 


# 


230  In  terpretation. 

his  Soul ;  but,  as  the  Soul  of  every  individual  man  is 
an  image  of  that  of  the  race,  the  Son  may  be  taken  to 
be  the  Soul  of  the  race,  and  the  reader  will  then  readily 
see  who  the  old  King  must  be.  In  this  case,  whilst  we 
may  easily  see  in  what  sense  the  evangelist  John  is  said 
to  have  been  "true  to  him  all  his  life,"  it  will  be  diffi- 
cult for  most  readers,  unacquainted  with  the  mystical 
style  of  writing,  to  understand  in  what  sense  the  King 
can  be  said  to  grow  old,  become  sick,  and  finally  die. 

To  explain  this  point  as  far  as  we  think  it  expedient, 
we  must  remark  that  in  early  life  the  dominant  power, 
or  King,  over  the  Soul  is  the  imagination ;  but  as  we 
advance  in  years,  this  power  may  be  said  to  grow  "less 
and  less,"  and,  finally,  yielding  to  the  presence  or  the 
pressure  of  reality,  it  may  be  said  to  die. 

Yet  this  must  not  be  asserted  of  the  imagination 
itself,  but  only  of  the  objects  of  the  imagination,  which 
fade  before  reason  and  reality,  wThen  true  images  take 
the  place  of  false  ones — or,  in  one  word,  when  the  true 
God  takes  the  place  of  the  imaginary  God. 

The  reader  may  do  well  to  consider  that  most  of  us, 
before  obtaining  what  may  be  called  the  true  knowl- 


# 


Faithful   John.         '  231 

edge  of  a  thing  (anything,  whether  spiritual  or  mate- 
rial), are  apt  to  form  an  image  (or  an  imaginary  notion) 
of  the  thing ;  but  when  we  can  be  said  to  know  the 
thing,  the  image  ceases  to  delude  us,  and  may  be  said 
to  die,  though  sometimes  the  image  is  understood  to  be 
false  before  the  coming  of  true  knowledge.  If,  now, 
the  Son  of  the  old  King  be  taken  to  signify  Israel,  or 
the  Soul  of  the  human  race,  as  just  intimated,  the 
deeper  meaning  of  this  story  may  rise  before  the 
student,  who  may  then  understand,  as  we  have  just 
said,  who  the  old  King  represents,  to  whom  John  is 
said  to  have  been  "  true  all  his  life." 

There  is  still  another  supposition  possible  with 
respect  to  the  meaning  of  the  story,  which  would 
make  the  point  of  the  story  turn  on  the  substitution 
of  the  Gospel  for  the  Law. 

On  this  supposition  the  letter  of  the  Law  would  be 
the  old  King,  about  to  give  place  to  its  own  Spirit,  as 
the  Gospel — a  transition  through  which  any  man  in 
any  age  (subsequent  to  the  advent  of  Christ)  might 
pass,  this  transition  being  represented  in  his  feelings, 
opinions,  and  sentiments. 


232  Interpretation. 

In  this  case  the  Son  would  represent  the  Spirit,  and 
may  be  supposed  to  he  the  "heir"  referred  to  by  St. 
Paul,  in  the  fourth  chapter  of  Galatiaus,  said  to  be 
under  "tutors  and  governors," — and  on  this  supposi- 
tion, we  may  understand,  in  a  poetic  sense,  how  John 
is  said  to  have  been  called  to  the  bedside  of  the  old 
King,  as  one  of  the  "tutors"  of  the  Son,  and  one  who 
had  always  been  true  to  the  King,  that  is,  true  and 
faithful  in  his  obedience  to  the  Law,  by  which  he  had 
attained  its  Spirit,  and  had  received  power  to  write 
the  Gospel  of  eternal  life. 

But  we  shall  assume  the  first  of  the  above  supposi- 
tions— that  the  old  King  represents  a  man,  whose 
"  care  "  for  his  Son  signifies  his  concern  for  his  Soul, — 
the  interpretation  in  the  main  answering  to  all  three 
of  the  suppositions.  We  will  now  enter  upon  the 
interpretation. 

Note  1.  Once  upon  a  time  (the  Story  begins)  there 
lived  an  old  King  ;  and  the  old  King  we  will  consider 
an  old  or  aged  Man;  for,  in  this  story,  as  in  that  of  the 
Ked  Book  of  Appin,  Man  is  the  subject  of  the  Story. 


Faithful    John.  233 

2.  The  aged  or  elderly  man,  we  are  told,  fell  very 
sick,  and  thought  he  was  lying  on  his  death  bed.  In 
this  condition  he  said,  "Let  faithful  John  come  to 
me." 

The  faithful  John,  here  referred  to,  is  John  the 
Evangelist,  the  loved  disciple  of  the  Lord,  who  now 
lives  in  the  faithful  history  of  his  Master;  and  the 
declaration,  "  Let  faithful  John  come  to  me,"  imports 
that  the  aged  man,  feeling  the  infirmities  of  declining 
years,  or  that  want  of  spiritual  rest  so  common  to 
those  who  are  called  men  of  the  world,  has  turned  his 
attention  to  the  Gospel,  or  to  the  writings  of  John  in  par- 
ticular, and  being  convinced  of  the  fidelity  or  faithful- 
ness of  John,  he  determines  to  yield  himself  to  the  in- 
fluence or  the  teachings  of  the  Gospel,  and  describes 
this  purpose  under  the  figure  of  calling  faithful  John 
to  his  bedside. 

We  must  now  consider  the  Gospel  (or  the  whole  of 
the  writings  of  John)  as  personified  ;  and  the  power  of 
the  Gospel  or  of  its  truth  is  what  John  is  about  to  be 
represented  as  doing  and  saying,  the  Gospel  being  con- 
sidered as  twofold,  letter  and  spirit,  just  as  the  Law  is 


234  In  t  e  rp  r  etation. 

twofold,  letter  and  spirit ;  for,  as  in  the  Law  also,  it  is 
the  spirit,  or  the  truth,  that  "  doeth  the  works." 

3.  The  "  care  "  of  the  old  King  about  his  son,  sig- 
nifies the  care  of  the  aged  man  about  his  Soul,  whose 
age  is  not  measured  by  the  years  of  the  man,  and 
hence  he  is  said  to  be  "so  young  that  he  cannot  al- 
ways guide  himself  aright."  For  the  instruction  and 
guidance  of  the  soul,  the  faithful  John  is  called,  and 
he  is  represented  as  giving  a  promise  to  the  old  King 
to  be  faithful  to  his  son, 

4.  ;t  even  if  it  should  cost  him  his  life."  This  is 
the  perpetual  office  of  the  Gospel,  for  it  is  a  faithful 
Teacher  "  from  generation  to  generation  ;  "  and  yet  it 
mystically  dies  as  often  as  it  communicates  its  spirit  or 
life  to  a  disciple  or  follower. 

This  mystical  death  may  as  well  be  referred  to  at 
once,  because  it  will  be  exhibited  in  the  Story.  It  sig- 
nifies that,  when  a  disciple  truly  receives  the  spirit  of 
the  Gospel,  the  letter  is  no  longer  needed ;  that  is,  it  is 
not  needed  by  the  disciple  so  receiving  the  truth :  but 
then,  again,  when  a  disciple  thus  receives  the  truth, 
and  perceives  its  immortality,  he  recognizes  the  per- 


Faithful   Jo  Jin.  235 

petual  life  of  the  Gospel  itself,  which,  then,  is  said  to 
revive  and  live  again,  and  then  it  lives  forever;  but  its 
life  is  now  seen  to  be  in  the  spirit,  and  is  known  not  to 
be  dependent  upon  the  letter. 

5.  The  language  of  the  old  King,—"  I  can  now  die  in 
peace,"  signifies  that  the  aged  man  is  willing  to  die 
when,  in  a  profound  faith  in  faithful  John,  he  commits 
his  soul  to  the  guidance  of  the  Gospel.  He  is  dramati- 
cally represented  as  throwing  himself  entirely  into  the 
arms  of  John,  that  is,  the  Gospel,  the  total  surrender  of 
his  personal  will  being  figuratively  called  a  death ;  and, 
in  some  sort,  it  is  a  death,  called  by  St.  Paul  the  death 
of  the  old  man. 

6.  The  injunction  of  the  old  King  to  John,  to  show 
his  Son  all  of  the  chambers  and  riches  of  the  "cas- 
tle," expresses  his  faith  in  the  power  of  the  Gospel  to 
disclose  to  a  faithful  soul  its  own  spiritual  wonders 
and  riches ;  but  the  caution,  not  to  show  him 

7.  "the  last  room  in  the  long  corridor,"  intimates 
that  the  nature  of  death  is  to  be  concealed  from  him ; 
because  God  himself  has  drawn  a  veil  over  it  while 
man  is  in  the  body :  but  as  the  passage  to  life  eternal  is 


236  Interpretation. 

through  the  denial,  or  the  negation,  that  is,  the  death 
of  the  finite  (the  natural  man),  it  is  said,  that  in  that 
last  room  is  placed 

8.  the  'portrait  of  the  Daughter  of  the  King  of  the 
Golden  Palace, — the  overpowering  effect  of  a  sight  of 
which  is  described  as  a  swoon. 

The  aged  man  must  now  be  seen  in  his  Son,  that  is, 
in  his  Soul,  and  we  are  to  follow  the  experiences  of 
the  soul  under  the  teaching  and  guidance  of  the  Gos- 
pel, as  represented  in  faithful  John,  wTho  is 

9.  the  pillow,  on  which  the  old  King  reposes,  in 
the  calmness  of  death, — a  figure  of  the  highest  possible 
faith. 

"We  do  not  propose  to  be  particularly  minute  in  fol- 
lowing out  the  sense  of  this  very  mystical  and  extra- 
ordinary story  ;  but  we  will  rapidly  indicate  such  leading 
points  as  may  be  useful  to  students  who  may  not  be  fa- 
miliar with  this  class  of  writings,  and  such  as  may  en- 
able them  to  determine  its  purpose  and  general  sense. 

10.  The  man  being  supposed  to  be  in  a  suitable 
state  to  receive  the  instruction  of  the  G-ospel,  faithful 
John  is  represented  as  saying  to  the  Son,  that  is,  to  the 


Faithful  John.  237 

Soul,  or,  rather,  as  the  Mystics  understand  it,  he 
speaks  in  the  Soul,  "  It  is  now  time  for  you  to  see  your 
inheritance;  I  will  show  you  your  paternal  castle." 
This  is  a  mystical  expression  of  the  oflnce  or  purpose  of 
the  Gospel,  to  wit,  to  disclose  or  make  known  to  the 
soul  its  descent  from  a  higher  life,  the  "  paternal  cas- 
tle," to  which  it  returns  in  Christ.  In  other  words, 
the  Gospel  teaches  that  way  of  life  to  the  wandering 
soul,  by  which  it  returns  to  its  Father, — the  paternal 
castle.  This  is  mystically  shown  in  the  Gospel  under 
figures  and  parables,  which,  as  the  "flesh"  (or  letter), 
"profiteth  nothing;"  and  it  is  represented  in  the 
Story,  in  a  figure  also,  as  if  John  led  the  King  all  over 
the 'castle,  uup  stairs  and  down  stairs"  (through  heav- 
en and  earth),  and  showed  him  all  the  (spiritual)  riches, 
and  all  the  splendid  chambers ; — to  wit,  the  new  Jeru- 
salem as  described  in  the  Revelation ;  for  the  new 
Jerusalem  is  the  "  paternal  mansion  "  of  the  soul, — 
when  understood  in  the  spirit,  which  "giveth  life." 

But, — one  room  is  not  opened,  said  to  contain  the 
"  perilous  portrait,"  to  wit,  Life  in  Death,  which  is 
described  as  being  so  placed  that  it  is  seen  directly  as 


# 


238  Interpretation. 

the  door  is  opened — the  passage  from  death  to  life  be- 
ing instantaneous. 

11.  The  portrait  of  the  Daughter  of  the  King  of 
the  Golden  Palace,  is  said  to  be  so  beautifully  painted, 
that  one  thought  it  "breathed  and  moved;"  nothing 
in  all  the  world  ('tis  said)  "  could  be  more  life-like  or 
beautiful."  This  is  a  mystical  allusion  to  the  beauty  of 
the  twentieth  chapter  of  John's  Gospel,  as  it  is  seen  in 
the  spirit ;  for,  to  the  spirit,  that  representation  is  a 
portrait  of  eternal  life ;  or,  it  is  a  picture  of  a  true 
spiritual  faith,'  called  the  Daughter  of  the  King  of  the 
Golden  Palace  (of  God).  When  this  picture  is  first 
seen  by  the  uninstructed  soul,  it  is  seen  as  a  history,  and 
is  not  recognized  as  a  life ;  and,  therefore,  the  man  is 
represented  as  asking, 

12.  "  Why  do  you  not  open  that"  (last  room)? 
Because,  says  faithful  John,  there  is  something  in  it 
which  will  frighten  you.  This  is  supposed  to  be  said 
to  the  man  before  he  understands  the  true  significa- 
tion of  death,  to  whom,  therefore,  death  is  something 
frightful. 

13.  But  the    intense    desire   to  know   something 


Faithful   John.  239 

about  death  is  expressed  in  the  declaration,  "I  will 
know  what  is  in  there,"  that  is,  in  that  last  chamber 
of  the  long  corridor ;  adding,  a  moment  after,  "  I  will 
not  stir  from  the  place  till  you  [John]  unlock  the 
door." 

14.  The  Key  to  that  door  is  Christ,  the  eternal  life ; 
and  as  the  Gospel  represents  Christ  as  speaking  of  or 
to  the  Jews,  as  if  they  searched  the  Scriptures  for 
eternal  life,  so  John  is  now  represented  as  taking  the 
Key  from  "the  great  bunch,"  to  wit,  from  the  books 
of  the  Bible,  in  order  to  open  the  door.  In  other 
words,  John  is  here  represented  as  taking  from  the 
Scriptures  the  Spirit  of  Christ,  with  which  or  in  which 
he  wrote  the  Gospel  for  the  purpose  of  explaining  the 
mystery  of  life  in  death.  But  because  of  the  sacred- 
ness  of  this  mystery,  John  is  represented  as  preceding 
the  disciple,  and  as  putting  a  "cover"  over  the  pic- 
ture, in  order  that  the  man  should  not  see  it ;  that  is, 
the  picture  is  presented  in  the  Gospel  in  figurative  and 
symbolical  language,  called  a  "cover"  over  the  pic- 
ture, in  order  that  the  so-called  natural  man  should 
not  be  injured  by  being  led  to  imagine  himself  in  pos- 


16 


240  Interpretation. 

session  of  that  truth  which  is  possible  only  to  the  spir- 
itual man.  Hence  this  picture  seeins,  to  the  natural 
man,  to  be  a  history  of  something  in  the  past ;  but  to 
the  spiritual  man  it  is  a  portrait  of  eternal  life,  and  is 
said  to  be  so  beautifully  represented  as  to  have  the  ap- 
pearance of  life. 

15.  But  now,  the  disciple  is  represented  as  rising 
(in  the  spirit)  on  "tiptoes,"  and  as  "looking  over  the 
shoulder  of  John;"  that  is,  he  looks  through  the  Gos- 
pel, which  is  called  looking  over  the  shoulder  of  John ; 
and  he  recognizes  the  portrait,  or  catches  a  glimpse  of 
its  truth,  the  overpowering  effect  of  which  is  repre- 
sented by  the  language,  that  "he  fell  down  on  the 
ground  insensible."  So  was  it  with  St.  Paul  when  he 
first  had  a  realizing  sense  of  the  eternal  life  of  the 
spirit. 

16.  But  now  we  see  represented  the  truth  of  the 
declaration,  "I  kill  and  I  make  alive;"  for,  as  it  was  a 
spiritual  sight  of  the  Life  or  Spirit,  which  struck  the 
disciple  down,  we  see  that  faithful  John,  that  is,  the 
Gospel,  by  means  of  its  spirit,  called  wine,  restores  the 
disciple  to  himself ;  and  his  first  inquiry,  on  waking  to 


Faithful   John.  241 


consciousness  is,  "  Ah !  who  is  that  beautiful  picture," 
and  his  inner  life  answers,  "  That  is  the  Daughter  of 
the  King  of  the  Golden  Palace." 

17.  And  now,  to  seek  out  that  eternal  life  the  dis- 
ciple dedicates  himself;  and  as  he  had  caught  a  glimpse 
of  it  from  the  Gospel,  he  is  represented  as  calling  upon 
faithful  John,  that  is,  upon  the  Gospel,  to  be  his  com- 
panion in  the  search. 

18.  "We  come  next  to  the  great  difficulty  of  attain- 
ing to  that  eternal  life,  which  is  called  the  Daughter  of 
the  King  of  the  Golden  Palace,  and  faithful  John  is 
represented  as  deliberating  a  long  while  upon  the  best 
mode  of  coming  into  her  presence.  At  length  we  find 
his  doctrine  of  innocence  and  truth,  as  he  figuratively 
represents  it  by  the  dove  and  the  lamb,  this  doctrine 
being  here  figured  in  the  language,  "  Everything  that 
she  has  around  her  is  of  gold,"  &c. ;  that  is$  within 
the  sphere  of  the  King's  daughter,  nothing  is  seen  or 
known  but  virgin  truth,  figured  by  gold.  The  seeker 
is  told,  in  one  word,  to  fill  his  soul  with  truth ;  and 
this  law  is  absolute.  Everything  false  must  be  ex- 
pelled from  the  heart  that  would  know  the  truth  or 


#~ 


242 


In  terpretation. 


come  into  its  presence.     It  is  impossible  to  overstate 
the  importance  of  this  very  simple  principle. 

19.  The  soul,  being  duly  prepared  for  the  search 
after  truth,  is  represented  as  a  ship  in  which  certain 
golden  ornaments  are  placed;  and  faithful  John  and 
the  disciple  are  described  as  adopting  a  disguise,  and 
sailing  over  the  wide  sea  (of  the  world)  to  the  city 
where  dwells  the  King's  daughter :  and  this  means 
that  the  Gospel  is  itself  a  figurative  and  symbolical,  or 
disguised  representation  of  the  passage  of  the  soul  to 
the  Holy  City  of  God.  It  is  a  symbolical  history  of  the 
Key,  found  in  the  "  bunch  "  of  the  books  of  the  Old 
Testament,  in  the  person  of  Cheist,  who  is  that  Key, 
as  he  leads  the  loved  disciple  to  the  foot  of  the  cross, 
where  he  receives  the  virgin  mother  to  his  heart ;  and 
the  virgin  mother  is  herself  the  Daughter  of  the  King 
of  the  Golden  Palace.  She  is  the  virgin  mother  of 
that  Son  of  God,  who  is  described  in  so  many  symboli- 
cal representations,  as  making  her  his  bride,  the  Bride 
of  the  Lamb. 

20.  The  spiritual  treasures,  which,  in  Exodus  [xxx. 
34-36],  are  called  spices  and  frankincense,  being  in  the 


#- 


Faithful   John.  243 

ship,  that  is,  in  the  man,  the  ship  is  figured  as  sailing 
over  the  "  wide  sea  "  (of  life),  nntil  she  is  said  to  come  to 
the  city  where  dwelt  the  Daughter  of  the  King  of  the 
Golden  Palace.  This  city  is  truly  before  all  men,  but 
is  not  known  to  them,  or  to  but  few  of  them,  for  they 
are  generally  interested  in  almost  everything  else,  in 
preference  to  engaging  in  that  search  after  the  Prin- 
cess, in  which  we  see  the  soul  employed  in  this  story 
of  faithful  John. 

21.  The  King,  that  is,  the  soul,  is  told  by  John  to 
remain  in  the  ship  :  which  signifies  that,  in  this  search 
after  truth,  the  man  does  not  go  out  of  himself,  or  out 
of  his  true  nature. 

22.  He  remains  in  himself;  but  is  told  by  his  faith- 
ful guide,  who  must  be  considered  the  Gospel  person- 
ified, to  take  care  that  "  all  is  in  order,"  and  he  must 
"set  out- the  golden  vessels,"  and  must  "adorn  the 
whole  ship  ;"  that  is,  the  whole  man. 

But  the  man  and  John  are,  in  a  mystical  sense,  one 
and  the  same,  the  spiritual  nature  of  John  being  truly 
in  the  soul,  although  apparently,  at  first,  without,  in 
the  Gospel,  that  is,  in  the  letter.     It  is  this  spiritual 


244  Interpretation. 

nature  in  the  soul  which  is,  in  truth,  leading  the  soul 
to  the  Gospel,  although  it  is  here  represented  as  if  the 
Gospel,  in  the  person  of  John,  was  leading  the  soul. 
This  is  because,  until  the  life  of  the  Gospel  is  recog- 
nized, it  seems  to  be  without  the  soul,  as  if  in  the  let- 
ter of  the  Gospel ;  but  the  Gospel  would  not  be  even 
thus  far  recognized  but  for  the  invisible  presence  in 
the  soul  of  its  divine  spirit.  It  is  this  secret  presence 
of  the  spirit  in  the  soul,  moving  it  both  to  and  by  the 
Gospel,  which  is  called,  in  the  Gospel  itself,  being  drawn 
by  the  Father,  in  the  language,  "  No  man  can  come  to  me, 
except  the  Father  which  hath  sent  me  draw  him  ;"  or, 
again,  in  the  same  sixth  chapter,  "No  man  can  come 
unto  me,  except  it  were  given  unto  him  of  my  Father." 
This  secret  influence  is  invoked  in  the  Canticles,  "  Draw 
me,  we  will  run  after  thee;  the  King  hath  brought  me 
into  his  chambers :  ice  will  be  glad  and  rejoice  in  thee, 
we  will  remember  thy  love  more  than  wine :  the  'upright 
love  thee.  This  language  is  addressed  to  the  object, 
which  is  now  represented  as  leading  the  soul  to  the 
Daughter  of  the  King  of  the  Golden  Palace. 

23.  But  before  the  perfect  vision,  and  while  yet  the 


Faithful   John.  245 

seeker  sees  as  through  a  glass  darkly,  faithful  John  is 
represented  as  placing  in  a  napkin,  that  is,  in  the  letter, 
some  of  the  golden  cups  (or  truths),  and  as  going  with 
them  "straight  to  the  King's  palace:"  straight — for 
the  way  of  access  to  the  palace  is  straight,  and  in  no 
sense  crooked, — according  to  the  command  in  Isaiah 
(xl.  3),  Prepare  ye  the  way  of  the  Loed,  make  straight 
in  the  desert  a  highway  for  our  God  : — that  is,  make 
your  walk  straight,  or  right  and  just,  when  you  seek 
the  presence  of  the  Daughter  of  the  King  of  the  Gold- 
en Palace.  This  step,  made  by  the  soul,  is  said  to  he  a 
step  "  upon  land,"  to  indicate  that  a  soul,  thus  con- 
sciously moving  in  the  truth,  is  sustained  and  support- 
ed by  the  power  of  God,  in  its  divine  yearnings  after 
the  spirit. 

24.  This  step  "  upon  land,"  is  said  to  lead  first  to 
the  "  castle  yard,"  that  is,  into  the  outer  court,  of  the 
King^s  palace ;  for  all  men  must  pass  through  nature 
to  grace,  and  in  this  picture,  nature  is  the  castle  yard ; 
and  this,  in  the  next  line,  is  personified  as 

25.  "  a  beautiful  maid,  standing  by  a  brook,  with 
two  golden  pails  in  her  hand" — the  brook  being  an 


246  In  t e rp r  et  atio n . 

image  of  the  spirit,  the  two  golden  pails  being  figurative 
language  for  the  body  and  soul  while  the  man  is  yet  in 
the  state  of  nature,  before  passing  into  the  true  light. 
The  maid,  in  the  outer  court,  is  represented 

26.  as  filling  the  two  golden  pails,  first,  before  she 
sees  signs  of  a  higher  life  ;  but  having  filled  them, 

27.  she  turns  around;  for,  although  man  must 
pass  through  nature  to  grace,  he  does  not  reach  the  so- 
called  state  of  grace,  so  long  as  he  looks  only  to  nature 
itself,  or,  so  long  as  he  continues  to  draw  water  with 
the  two  golden  buckets ;  but  these  twoy  failing  to  reach 
the  true  water  of  life,  the  maid — now  representing  the 
natural  man — is  described  as  turning  around.  But  this 
should  not  be  understood  in  a  mere  material  sense. 
Neither  is  the  use  of  the  word  spirit  to  be  taken  in  any 
wild  or  impossible  sense.  Any  change  in  a  mode  of 
thinking  or  feeling  may  be  called  a  turning,  in  the 
sense  here  intended.  Let  us  remain  in  the  ship,  ac- 
cording to  the  meaning  of  faithful  John,  and  we  may 
see,  both  materially  and  spiritually,  all  that  we  are 
designed  to  see  while  in  this  tabernacle  of  the 
body. 


4- 


Faithful   J  oh  71.  247 

With  these,  possibly  unnecessary  cautions,  let  us 
return  to  the  course  of  the  story. 

The  maid  turns  around,  and  looking  in  the  opposite 
direction,  is  said  to  see  a  "strange  man,"  and  upon 
asking  who  he  is,  is  answered,  a  merchant, — and  this  is 
now  the  Gospel,  represented  as  a  man,  having  a  "  nap- 
kin "  containing  some  of  the  golden  vessels,  or  truths 
of  the  spirit. 

These  golden  vessels  or  spiritual  truths  now  greatly 
excite  the  inner  life,  and  become  the  channel  or  me- 
dium of  an  intercommunication  between  the  man  and 
the  King's  daughter,  by  means  of  the  maid,  who  repre- 
sents herself  as  only  the  lady's  maid,  thus  mystically 
telling  us  that  nature  is  but  the  servant  of  the  spirit. 
Nevertheless,  it  is  by  the  aid  of  this  servant  that  man 
is  led,  "  by  the  hand,"  as  we  see  it  represented  in  this 
story,  into  the  presence  of  the  King's  daughter,  but  it 
must  be  kept  in  mind  that  this  takes  place  only  upon 
certain  conditions. 

And  now  we  see  faithful  John,  in  answer  to  a  ques- 
tion by  the  princess,  announcing  himself  as  but 

28.     "the  servant  of  a  rich  merchant,"  declaring 


# 


#- 


248  Interpretation. 


that  what  he  has  in  the  napkin  (the  letter  or  outer  life), 
is  nothing  in  comparison  to  those  (golden  treasures) 
which  are  in  the  ship,  "than  which  nothing  more  deli- 
cate or  costly  has  ever  been  worked  in  gold  : "  and 
when  the  King's  daughter  wishes  them  all  brought  to 
her,  she  is  answered,  by  faithful  John — 

29.  "it  would  take  many  days,  and  so  great  is  the 
quantity  that  your  palace  has  not  halls  enough  in  it  to 
place  them  around."  This  is  the  figure  of  a  soul 
which,  having  seen  the  golden  beauties  (or  truths)  in 
the  letter  of  the  Gospel,  is  incited  to  a  desire  for  all 
truth,  and  receives  for  an  answer,  as  it  were,  the  very 
language  of  the  Gospel,  "  And  there  are  also  many 
other  things,  which  Jesus  did,  the  which,  if  they 
should  be  written  every  one,  I  suppose  that  even  the 
world  itself  could  not  contain  the  books  that  should  be 
written."     John  xxi.  25. 

30.  And  now  the  King's  daughter  is  represented  as 
exclaiming,  "  Take  me  to  the  ship  ;  I  will  go  myself  and 
look  at  your  master's  treasure." 

It  is  impossible  for  representations  like  these  not  to 
lose  some  of  their  beauty,  when  reduced  to  mere  didac- 

$ . 4 


Faithful   John.  249 

tic  statements-,  but  this  loss  is  Dot  felt,  so  long  as  the 
spiritual  sense  of  the  representation  is  not  realized,  and, 
therefore,  the  attempt  thus  to  exhibit  them  may  be  ex- 
cused, it  being  for  the  purpose  of  awakening  attention 
to  the  import  of  the  story,  in  order  that  its  real  beau- 
ties may  be  apprehended. 

In  this  declaration,  "  Take  me  to  the  ship,"  we 
must  recognize  a  soul,  which,  having  seen  some  of  the 
beauties  of  a  spiritual  life,  through  the  "napkin"  (or 
letter  of  the  Gospel),  determines  to  pass  wholly  to  a 
higher  life,  in  order  the  more  completely  to  realize  its 
spiritual  treasures- 
Si.  Faithful  John  now  conducts  the  King's  daugh- 
ter to  the  ship ;  or,  which  is  the  same  thing,  he  brings 
a  sense  of  the  higher  life  into  the  presence  of  the  soul, 
the  Gospel  being  the  medium  of  communication,  by 
means  of  the  similitude  of  its  spiritual  beauties  to 
those  in  the  ship,  that  is,  in  the  soul,  these  two  being,  in- 
deed, of  one  and  the  same  nature ;  in  which  operation 
the  Gospel  performs  the  part  of  a  Mediator  (the  office 
of  Christ),  pointing  to  that  eternal  life,  of  which  the 
Gospel  is  said  to  contain  the  portrait:  for  the  Gospel,  as 


#- 


250  In  t  e  rj)  retatio  n . 

a  letter,  may  be  compared,  in  its  office,  to  the  Bajjtist, 
who  speaks  of  one  coming  after  him  whose  shoe's  latch- 
et  he,  as  the  letter  of  the  Old  Testament,  is  not  worthy 
to  unloose. 

32.  And  now  the  soul  begins  to  see  the  transcend- 
ent splendors  of  a  divine  life,  far  beyond  the  beauty 
of  the  portrait  which  had  been  first  seen,  whilst  on 
"tiptoe"  looking  over  the  "shoulder  of  John:"  and  it 
is  just  here,  we  will  take  leave  to  say,  that  the  soul  is 
in  a  right  position  for  appreciating  much  of  the  language 
of  the  divine  Song  of  songs,  the  Canticles,  in  which  the 
Spirit  of  Life  is  sometimes  addressed  in  the  masculine 
and  sometimes  in  the  feminine  sense,  for  the  Daugh- 
ter of  the  King  of  the  Golden  Palace  is  the  Son  of 
God. 

This  is  what  is  signified  in  the  verse  from  Genesis, 
transferred  to  the  Gospel  of  Matthew,  ch.  xix.  4  : 
"  Have  ye  not  read,  that  he  which  made  them  at  the  be- 
ginning made  them  male  and  female?" — the  mystical 
comment  being,  "  wherefore  they  are  no  more  twain, 
but  one  flesh." 

And  thus  are  they  referred  to  in  the  Canticles : 


#- 


Faithful    John.  251 

"  Let  him  kiss  me  with  the  Tcisses  of  his  mouth  :  for 
thy  love  is  better  than  wine." 

"  Behold  thou  art  fair,  my  love;  behold  thou  art 
fairy  "  Thou  art  all  fair,  my  love  ;  there  is  no  spot 
in  thee." 

"  Row  fair  is  my  sister,  my  spouse  I  "  "  I  sleep,  but 
my  heart  waketh :  it  is  the  voice  of  my  beloved  that 
hiocketh,  saying,  Open  to  me,  my  sister,  my  love,  my 
undefiled." 

" I opened  to  my  beloved',  but  my  beloved  had  with- 
drawn himself,  and  was  gone.'1'' 

u Ny  dove,  my  undefiled  is  but  one;  she  is  the  only 
one  of  her  mother,  she  is  the  choice  one  of  her  that 
bare  her" 

"  I  am  my  beloved\  and,  his  desire  is  towards  me. 
Come,  my  beloved,  let  us  go  forth  into  the  field  ;  let  us 
lodge  in  the  villages.'''' 

"Set  me  as  a  seal  upon  thine  heart,  as  a  seal  upon 
thine  arm  :  for  love  is  strong  as  death." 

"  Make  haste,  my  beloved,  and  be  thou  like  to  a  roe 
or  to  a  young  hart  upon  the  mountains  of  spices.'1'1 

In  reading  this  beautiful  rhapsody  of  an  inspired 


252  In  t e rp r  etation  . 

soul,  we  feel  as  if  we  would  have  the  divine  words 
uttered  in  the  hearing  of  all  men :  To  the  pure  all 
things  are  pure. 

33.  We  now  see  the  shipr  the  soul,  still  under  the 
guidance  of  faithful  John,  who  is  beautifully  described 
as  standing  with  the  "Steersman"  (the  conscience), 
making  music,  and  as  sailing  "  on  and  on  "  towards  land, 
or  its  proper  resting  place,  bearing  a  precious  burden, 
received  from  the  letter;  but  when  it  first  discovers 
itself  on  the  sea  (of  life)  separated,  as  it  were,  from  the 
letter,  which  had  been  accepted  as  its  only  guide,  a 
sense  of  loneliness  passes  over  the  soul,  as  if  it  had  been 
ravished  from  its  proper  home,  or  as  if  its  only  hope 
had  been  taken  from  it,  and  the  soul  exclaims : 

34.  "I  am  betrayed — and  am  in  the  hands  of  a 
strange  merchant." 

35.  But  now  the  soul,  being  elevated  by  the  presence 
of  the  spirit,  is  inspired  with  a  divine  sense  of  its  native 
worth,  and  declares,  "I  am  not  a  merchant,  but  a  king, 
thine  equal  in  birth.  It  is  true  that  I  have  carried  thee 
off,  but  that  is  because  of  my  overwhelming  love  for 
thee."     These  words  of  assimilation  bring  the  two  into 


Faithful   John,  253 

harmony,  and  the  King's  daughter  becomes  the  Bride 
of  the  soul. 

But  just  here,  when  the  divine  inheritance  seems  on 
the  point  of  attainment,  the  soul  is  exposed  to  its  great- 
est dangers,  which  we  will  briefly  indicate,  and  will 
hasten  to  a  close,  having  already  expanded  our  remarks 
far  beyond  what  was  originally  intended. 

36.  The  first  great  danger  to  man,  in  the  supposed 
attainment  of  spiritual  truth,  is  his  exposure  to  spiritual 
pride.  This,  in  the  story  of  faithful  John,  is  figured  by 
the  fox-colored  horse,  which  meets  him  at  the  very 
moment  when  he  imagines  himself  safely  "  on  shore." 
But  the  Gospel  is  prepared  for  this,  and  by  its  lessons  of 
humility  teaches  the  spirit  to  put  the  horse  to  death, 
and  this  must  be  done  with  a  pistol  drawn  from  his  own 
holsters  ;•  for  every  man  must  be,  for  himself,  the  exe- 
cutioner of  his  own  pride. 

37.  The  second  great  danger  is  this,  to  wit :  a  delu- 
sive imagination,  that  a  robe  of  righteousness,  called  in 
the  story,  "  a  beautiful  bridal  shirt,"  can  be  obtained  at 
second-hand  (even  from  the  letter  of  the  Gospel  itself) 
by  which  the  soul  is  in  danger  of  supposing  itself  excused 
# 


254  In  t  e  rp  r  etatio  n . 

from  being  instrumental  in  clothing  itself  with  its  proper 
"  wedding  garments,"  in  which  to  appear  at  the  marriage 
of  the  son. 

But  here,  likewise,  the  Gospel  has  ample  instruction 
for  those  who  will  receive  it,  by  which  they  may  be 
protected  from  this  very  common  misunderstanding. 
The  robe,  thus  received  at  second-hand,  may  have  all 
the  appearance  of  having  been  "  woven  of  gold  and  sil- 
ver :"  but  the  Gospel,  rightly  understood,  will  tell  any 
one,  that,  if  not  woven  by  the  soul  itself,  it  is  but  "sul- 
phur and  pitch,"  and  will  burn  whoever  attempts  to 
wear  it  "to  his  marrow  and  bones :"  and  thus  we  see, 
in  the  story,  that  faithful  John  throws  the  fictitious 
robe  into  the  fire,  and  it  is  burnt. 

38.  The  third  great  danger  is  this :  that  the  soul 
may  imagine  it  has  acquired  the  power  of  walking  on 
the  unstable  waters  of  the  world,  without  the  aid  of  the 
spirit,  because  it  has  drawn  from  the  letter,  it  may  be, 
some  portion  of  its  spiritual  sense.  The  fallacy  of  this 
is  represented  by  the  attempt  of  the  bride  to  engage  in 
the  dance,  the  symbol  of  action  in  life,  in  which  attempt 


Faithful    John,  255 

she  suddenly  finds  her  power  fail  her,  and,  turning  pale, 
she  falls  down  as  if  dead. 

But  here  also,  the  Gospel,  in  the  person  of  faithful 
John,  is  at  hand,  and  applies  the  proper  remedy  by 
casting  away  three  drops  of  blood  from  the  right  breast 
of  the  bride;  a  mysterious  symbol,  indicating  a  casting 
away  of  the  three  principles,  by  which  means  the  one 
is  restored  to  life  and  action, 

39.  But  in  this  great  lesson,  faithful  John  has  ex- 
hausted his  visible  teaching,  and  by  denying  &  plurality 
has  denied  himself;  and  is  thus  represented  as  being 
turned  into  stone. 

40.  But  this  lesson  seems  too  great  for  the  man  :  for, 
however  the  spirit  may  be  affected,  at  first,  by  a  sense 
of  its  freedom  from  the  bondage  of  the  letter,  it  soon 
comes  to  feel  an  awful  sense  of  solitude  in  the  midst  of 
the  universe,  and  may  then  yearn  for  a  return  to  its 
early  child-like  faith  in  the  letter.  In  this  state  we 
hear  the  soul  exclaim,  in  its  solitude,  "  Ah,  could  I 
bring  you  to  life  again,  my  faithful  John  ;"  which  indi- 
cates that  the  man  is  not  yet  in  unity.  This  is  immedi- 
ately shown  by  the  representation,  that  the  bride,  and 


256  Interpretation. 

this  is  the  man's  heart,  gives  birth  to  twins,  the  ever- 
recurring  two  in  so  many  mystic  stories. 

41,  But  the  true  unity  is  a  harmony,  and  does  not 
leave  the  man  alone.  Thus  we  see  that,  even  here,  the 
longing  of  the  soul  for  the  life  of  faithful  John,  which 
signifies  in  truth  the  divine  life,  is  expressed  in  the  re- 
peated exclamation,  "  Ah  !  could  I  restore  you  to  life, 
my  faithful  John :"  and  this  longing  of  the  soul  evokes 
from  the  depths  of  the  spirit,  the  response,  "  You  can 
make  me  alive  again,  if  you  will  bestow  on  me  that 
which  is  dearest  to  you:"  upon  which  the  King  replies, 
"  All  that  I  have  in  the  world  I  will  give  up  for  you." 

42.  And  now  the  stone  speaks  again  :  "  If  you,  with 
your  own  hand  [for  it  can  be  done  by  no  other],  cut  off 
the  heads  of  both  your  children  and  sprinkle  me  with 
their  blood,  I  shall  be  brought  to  life  again." 

Here  we  see  the  great  trial  of  faith  imposed  upon 
the  ancient  patriarch,  who  was  found  equal  to  the  task, 
though  excused  from  the  performance  of  it:  and  in  this 
story  of  faithful  John,  we  see  how  this  great  act  of  self- 
denial  which  carries  the  spirit  into  unity,  contains  in 
itself  not  only  its  own  living  principle,  but  the  life  of 


Faithful   John.  251 

what  is  given  for  it ;  for  not  only  is  faithful  John  re- 
stored, but  through  him  the  two  sons  are  brought  to 
life  "  as  if  nothing  had  happened;  "  and,  last  of  all,  the 
queen,  the  heart,  acquiescing  in  the  providence  of  God, 
under  the  sense  of  doing  a  great  act  of  justice,  receives 
from  universal  nature,  "  the  great  cupboard,"  the  ob- 
jects of  its  affection,  which,  in  truth,  have  never  been 
really  lost ;  and  the  soul  exclaims,  "  God  be  praised !  he 
is  saved,  and  we  have  still  our  little  sons." 

And  now, — what  may  these  two  sons  represent,  but 
reason  and  faith;  which,  having  been  disjoined  in  a 
natural  life,  are  brought  together  again  through  the 
Gospel,  and  enjoy  henceforth  a  blessed  unity?  It  is  of 
this  union  that  we  read  in  Matthew,  xix.  6 :  "  What 
God  hath  joined  together,  let  no  man  put  asunder."  But 
it  is  admitted,  in  the  11th  verse,  following,  that,  All 
men  cannot  receive  [or  understand]  this  saying,  save 
they  to  whom  it  is  given. 

Those  who  may  be  disposed  to  deny  the  meaning 
here  imputed  to  this  story  of  Faithful  John,  are  re- 
quested to  observe  the  gravity  with  which  the  story  is 


ftfi] 


Interpretation 


told,  and  consider  whether  any  other  interpretation  c;m 
with  plausibility  be  given  to  it.  That  the  story  is  not 
a  mere  vagary  of  the  imagination  seems  very  plain,  its 
construction  being  too  visibly  regular  to  admit  of  such 
a  supposition.  If  the  reader  therefore  is  not  satisfied 
with  the  interpretation  here  proposed,  let  him  please 
his  fancy  or  his  heart  with  a  more  appropriate  one. 

It  may  assist  an  unpi-acticed  student  of  Fairy  Tales 
— for,  though  seemingly  addressed  to  children,  many 
of  them  are  things  to  be  studi-ed — to  observe  that 
many  of  the  transformations,  of  which  they  treat,  are 
simply  personified  changes  in  the  state  of  man  as  he 
passes  through  life, — his  feelings,  for  example,  as  they 
were  while  acting,  and  the  memory  of  them  when 
reflection  brings  the  same  feelings  before  him ;  or, 
they  may  represent  his  changed  opinions  on  important 
subjects  as  experience  or  study  furnishes  grounds  for 
such  changes,  &c.  From  this  point  of  view  the 
thoughts  and  feelings  of  man  constitute  a  vast  family 
of  hirds,  and  other  animals,  in  the  "  midst "  of  which 
a  mysterious  one  may  be  discovered,  which  maintains 
a    certain    uniformity    and    serenity    throughout    all 


Faithful  John.  259 

changes,  itself  unchanged.  "We  are  told  that  but  one 
thing  is  needful,  and  surely  this  one  thing  must  be  the 
pearl  of  great  price. 


[In  addition  to  the  preceding  stories  and  interpreta- 
tions, we  have  decided  to  append  one  story  more,  from 
Taylor's  translation  of  the  Fairy  Eing,  entitled,  The 
Goosegiel  at  the  Well  ;  and  if  the  reader  is  as  much 
pleased  with  it  as  the  editor  is,  he  will  be  very  thank- 
ful for  having  it  thrown  in  his  way.  We  will  make  no 
interpretation  of  this  beautiful  story  beyond  a  few  foot- 
notes, though  strongly  tempted  to  do  so,  preferring  to 
leave  it  for  the  exercise  of  the  reader's  sense  of  truth,  or 
his  imagination,  if  he  prefers  to  put  it  on  this  ground.] 


THE  GOOSEGIEL  AT  THE  WELL. 

There  was  once  an  old  Woman,  who 
lived  with  her  flock  of  geese  on  a  lonely 
heath  amongst  high  hills,*  and  had  there 
a  little  hut.  The  heath  was  surrounded 
by  a  large  wood,  and  every  morning  the 
old  woman  took  her  crutch  and  hobbled 
into  the  wood.  And  there  she  presently 
fell  to  work,  as  busy  as  a  bee ;  you 
would  never  have  thought  an  old  woman 
of  her  age  f  could  have  been  so  brisk. 

*  These  "  high  hills  "  are  perpetually  around  us  all. 
t  Some  six  thousand  years  or  so. 


<S> 


264  The  Goosegirl  at  the  Well. 

She  gathered  grass  for  her  geese,  plucked 
the  wild  fruit  from  the  trees,  as  far  as 
she  could  reach,  and  carried  it  all  home 
upon  her  back.  When  anyone  chanced 
to  meet  her,  she  greeted  him  kindly: 
"  Good  morning,  friend, — fine  weather  to- 
day !  Ah,  I  see  you  wonder  at  my  drag- 
ging along  this  bundle  of  grass,  but  every- 
one has  his  burden  to  bear."  The  people, 
however,  shunned  her,  and  would  go  a 
long  way  about  to  avoid  meeting  her; 
and  when  a  father,  walking  with  his  chil- 
dren, passed  her,  he  would  whisper  in 
their  ear :  "  Take  care  of  the  old  woman, 
— she  is  a  witch  !" 

One    morning    a    handsome    young 


-$■ 


The  Goosegirl  at  the  Well.  265 

man  *  was  rambling  through  the  wood. 
The  sun  shone  bright,  the  birds  were 
singing,  a  cool  breeze  stirred  among  the 
leaves,  and  his  heart  was  light  and  mer- 
ry.f  He  wandered  a  long  while,  but 
met.no  one  ;  when  at  length,  on  a  sud- 
den, he  saw  the  old  woman,  down  on  her 
knees,  busy  cutting  grass  with  a  sickle.  J 
She  had  already  stowed  a  large  heap  in 
her  sack,  and  by  her  side  stood  two  bas- 
kets full  of  apples  and  pears.  "  Good 
morning,  dame  ! "  said  the  young  man ; 
"prithee    how   can   you   carry   such   a 

*Life. 

t  Light  and  inerry — as  usual  in  early  life. 

%  The  old  woman  does  a  good  deal  of  her  cutting 
with  a  scythe,  but  'tis  said  that,  by  kissing  it,  the  edge 
may  be  completely  turned ! 


266  The  Goosegirl  at  the  Well. 

load  ? "  "  Ah,  my  young  master,"  said 
she,  "  need  has  no  choice,  and  I  must 
carry  it  as  well  as  I  am  able.  Rich 
folks'  children  may  be  idle,  but  you 
know  what  the  proverb  says  to  the  poor 
man, — - 

c  If  round  you  look, 
Your  back  has  a  crook. T 

But  will  you  help  me  ?  You  have  a 
straight  back  and  young  legs ;  this  bun- 
dle is  a  trine  to  you ;  and  my  cottage  is 
not  far  off,  on  a  heath  over  yonder  hill : 
you  might  skip  there  presently."  The 
youth  took  pity  on  the  old  woman. 
"  My  father  indeed  is  no  peasant,  but  a 
rich  lord,"  said  he  ;  "  however,  to  let  you 
see  that  others   beside   poor   folks   can 


The  Goosegirl  at  the  Well.  267 

carry  loads,  I  will  take  your  bundle."  * 
"  Well,"  answered  the  old  woman,  "  if 
you  will,  I  shall  be  very  glad.  We  have 
an  hour's  walk  to  be  sure,  but  what's 
that  to  you  \  Here,  you  must  take  the 
apples  and  pears  f  as  well." 

When  the  young  man  heard  her  talk 
of  an  hour's  walk,  he  began  to  think 
more  seriously  of  the  matter;  however, 
the  old  woman  would  not  let  him  off; 
she  strapped  the  sack  upon  his  back, 
and  hung  the  two  baskets  on  his  arms. 
"  There,  there  !  "  said  she,  "  it  is  all  easy 

*The  young  man  accepts  the  burden  imposed  by 
nature. 

t  The  perpetual  two  principles  within  which  the 
walk  of  life  is  bounded,  "  one  on  either  side,"  life  be- 
ing in  the  midst  between  the  two. 


268  The  Goosegirl  at  the  Well. 

enough,  you  see."  "Not  at  all  so  easy, 
dame/'  said  the  youth,  and  he  made  a 
wry  face  :  u  the  bundle  is  as  heavy  as  if 
it  were  full  of  stones,  and  the  apples 
and  pears  must  surely  be  made  of  lead  : 
I  can  scarcely  breathe."  He  had  a  great 
mind  to  throw  off  the  burden,  but  the 
old  woman  would  not  let  him.  "  Well, 
to  be  sure,  only  look  there !  "  said  she 
jeeringly;  "a  stout  young  fellow  that 
cannot  carry  a  load  which  an  old  woman 
like  me  has  often  and  often  dragged 
along !  But  this  is  the  way  with  such 
folks ;  plenty  of  fine  words,  indeed, — 
only  try  them  in  earnest,  and  they  are 
off  in  a  moment.  Well,  why  do  you 
stand    idling    there  ? "     she   went    on ; 

4 $ 


The  Goosegirl  at  the  Well.  269 

"  come,  stir  your  legs  briskly  !  nobody 
will  take  off  your  bundle." 

As  long  as  lie  walked  on  level* 
ground,  it  was  all  very  well ;  but  when 
they  came  to  the  hill,  and  had  to  toil  up 
the  steep  path,  and  the  stones  rolled 
down  under  his  feet  as  if  they  were 
alive,  then  his  strength  began  to  fail. 
"  Good  mother,"  said  he,  "  I  really  can- 
not go  any  farther ;  do  let  us  rest  a  lit- 
tle." "  Wait  awhile ! "  answered  the  old 
woman;  "when  we  have  come  to  our 
journey's  end  you  may  rest  as  much  as 
you  will,  but  now  you  must  jog  onwards. 

*  We  move  very  cheerfully  under  the  burden  of  na- 
ture so  long  as  we  are  not  tried:  but  life  has  its 
"hills." 


270  The  Goosegirl  at  the  Well. 

Who  knows  what  good  may  coine  of 
it?"  "Old  daine,  you  are  impudent,'' 
said  the  youth,  and  he  tried  to  throw  off 
the  sack,  turning  and  twisting  himself 
one  way  and  another,  but  all  in  vain  ; 
it  stuck  as  fast  as  if  it  had  grown  to 
his  back*  Thereupon  the  old  woman 
laughed  heartily,  and  danced  round  her 
crutch  with  very  glee.  "  Don't  be  in  a 
passion,  good  sir,"  said  she  ;  "  you  are  as 
red  as  a  turkey  cock.  Carry  your  bun- 
dle patiently,  and  when  we  get  home  I 
will  reward  you  well."  The  poor  fellow 
could  not  help  himself,  so  he  tried  to 
put  a  good  face  on  the  matter,  and  toiled 
on  patiently  behind  the  old  woman.    At 

*  It  had  grown  there. 


The  Goosegirl  at  the  Well.  271 

every  step  she  seemed  to  grow  more 
nimble,  and  his  burden  to  grow  heavier. 
All  at  once  she  gave  a  leap,  jumped  on 
to  the  sack,  and  seated  herself  upon  it ; 
and  although  she  was  as  thin  as  a  lath, 
yet  she  seemed  heavier  than  the  stoutest 
country  lass.  The  young  man's  knees 
trembled  under  him,  but  whenever  he 
stopped,  the  old  woman  whipped  his 
legs  with  a  bunch  of  nettles  *  And  thus 
he  went  on,  sighing  and  groaning  at 
every  step,  until  they  came  to  the  top  of 
the  hill ;  at  length  they  reached  the  old 
woman's  hut,  just  as  he  was  ready  to 
drop  with  fatigue. 

*  Nature  will  not  allow  us  to  stop  in  the  middle  of 
our  journey  of  life ;  nor  to  throw  aside  its  burden. 
$ 

18 


272  The  Goosegirl  at  the  Well. 

As  soon  as  the  geese  saw  the  old 
woman,  they  stretched  out  their  necks, 
flapped  their  wings,  and  ran  to  meet  her, 
crying  out,  tc  Wulle !  wulle  ! "  Behind 
the  flock  came  an  old  wench,  stout  and 
lusty,  but  as  ugly  as  night.  "  Good 
mother,"  said  she,  "  what  has  happened 
to  make  you  stay  out  so  late  ? "  "  Be 
easy,  daughter,"  answered  the  old  woman, 
"  no  harm  has  befallen  me :  on  the  con- 
trary, my  young  master  here  has  carried 
my  load  for  me ;  but  not  content  with 
that,  when  I  was  tired  he  took  me  up 
too  upon  his  back.*  And  all  the  way 
we   have   been    so   merry,  joking    and 

*  If  we  carry  nature  first,  patiently,  she  carries  us 
afterwards. 


The  Goosegirl  at  the  Well.  2>73 

laughing,  that  the  distance  really  seemed 
nothing  at  all." 

At  length  the  old  woman  slid  down, 
unstrapped  the  bundle  from  the  young 
man's  back,  and  took  the  baskets  from 
his  arms  ;  and  having  done  so,  she  said, 
with  a  kind  smile,  a  Now  sit  you  down 
on  the  bench  before  the  door,  and  rest 
awhile ;  you  have  fairly  earned  your  re- 
ward." *  Then  she  said  to  the  goosegirl, 
"  Go  into  the  house,  daughter ;  it  is  not 
becoming  for  you  to  be  alone  with  the 
young  man, — we  must  not  pour  oil  upon 
the  fire ;  who  knows  but  he  might  fall 

*  "  Earned,"  that  is,  by  patient  service,  after  he  had 
reached  the  top  of  the  hill :  for  nature  rewards  no  one 
who  does  not  first  serve  her. 


274  The  Goosegirl  at  the  Well. 

in  love  with  you  ?  "  The  young  prince 
scarcely  knew  whether  to  laugh  or  cry. 
"  Such  a  beauty  !  "  thought  he  ;  "  my 
heart  is  safe  enough." 

Meanwhile  the  old  woman  fondled 
her  geese  and  patted  them  on  the  head, 
as  if  they  were  her  children,  and  then 
went  with  her  daughter  into  the  house. 
The  youth  stretched  himself  on  the 
"bench  under  a  wild  apple  tree.  The  air 
was  soft  and  mild :  a  green  meadow 
spread  out  all  around,  covered  with  cow- 
slips, wild  thyme,  and  a  thousand  other 
flowers ;  a  clear  brook  purled  along 
through  the  grass,  and  the  sun  glanced 
brightly  on  its  waters.     "  Oh,  how  de- 


The  Goosegirl  at  the  Well.  275 

licious  !  "  *  said  lie  ;  "  but  I  am  too  tired 
to  keep  my  eyes  open,  and  will  sleep  a 
little.  I  only  hope  no  gust  of  wind  will 
come  and  carry  off  my  legs  from  my 
body,  for  they  are  as  brittle  as  tinder." 

After  he  had  slept  a  little  while,  the 
old  woman  came  and  shook  him  until  he 
awoke.  "  Up,  up !  "  said  she,  "  you  can- 
not stay  here  any  longer.  Tis  true  I 
have  given  you  trouble  enough,  but  it 
has  not  cost  you  your  life,  and  now  you 
shall  have  your  reward:  money  and 
goods  you  do  not  want,  therefore  he^e  is 
something  else  for  you."  So  saying  she 
put  into  his  hand  a  little  casket,  which 

*  Nature  is  thus  delicious  to  one  who  feels  that  he 
has  borne  his  part  in  life  faithfully. 


276  The  Goosegirl  at  the  Well. 

was  made  of  a  single  emerald.*  "Take 
care  of  it,"  slie  added,  "  and  it  will 
bring  you  good  luck."  The  prince 
jumped  up,  and  felt  quite  fresh  and 
strong  again  ;  he  thanked  the  old  woman 
for  her  gift,  and  set  out  on  his  way,  without 
once  looking  back  at  her  fair  daughter  ; 
but  for  some  time  he  still  heard  the  lusty 
cackling  of  the  geese  in  the  distance,  f 

The  prince  wandered  about  for  three 
days,  till  at  length  he  came  to  a  great 
city  ;  and  as  no  one  knew  him,  he  was 
brought  to  the  king's  palace,  where  the 
king  and  the   queen  were  sitting  upon 

*The  pearl  of  great  price,  the  key  to  unnumbered 
mysteries. 

t  "  In  the  distance  r — as  we  leave  them  behind  us. 


The  Goosegirl  at  the  Well.  211 

the  throne.  The  prince  dropped  on  one 
knee,  took  the  emerald  casket  ont  of  his 
pocket  and  laid  it  at  the  feet  of  the 
queen.  Then  she  bade  him  stand  up, 
and  reach  her  the  casket :  but  hardly- 
had  she  opened  the  lid  and  peeped  into 
it,  when  she  fell  like  one  dead  upon  the 
floor.*  The  prince  was  instantly  seized 
by  the  king's  servants,  who  were  going 
to  carry  him  off  to  prison,  when  the 
queen  opened  her  eyes  and  ordered  him 
to  be  set  free,  and  told  all  the  people  to 
leave  the  room,  as  she  wished  to  speak 
with  the  prince  in  private. 

*  In  like  manner  the  young  King,  in  Faithful  John, 
swoons,  when  he  first  obtains  a  glimpse  of  the  por- 
trait of  the  daughter  of  the  King  of  the  Golden  Palace. 


278  The  Goosegirl  at  the  Well. 

As  soon  as  they  were  alone,  the  queen 
fell  a- weeping  bitterly,  and  said,  "  Alas ! 
what  pleasure  can  I  have  in  all  the  rank 
and  splendor  which  surround  me  !  Every 
morning  I  awake  with  -care  and  sorrow. 
I  had  three  daughters,  the  youngest  of 
whom  was  so  fair  that  the  whole  world 
looked  on  her  as  a  marvel  of  beauty.* 
She  was  as  white  as  snow,  as  red  as  an 
apple  blossom,  and  her  hair  shone  like 
the  sunbeams.  When  she  wept,  pearls 
and  precious  stones  fell  from  her  eyes, 
instead  of  tears.  She  was  fifteen  years' 
old,  when  the  king  one  day  called  the 
three  sisters  before  his  throne.     Oh  you 

*  Let  the  reader  consult  the  episode  of  Cupid  and 
Psyche,  in  the  story  of  the  Golden  Ass,  by  Apuleius. 


The  Goosegirl  at  the  Well.  219 

should  have  seen  how  all  the  people 
opened  their  eyes  when  the  youngest 
entered — -it  was  just  as  if  the  sun  came 
forth.  The  king  said,  '  My  daughters,  I 
know  not  when  my  last  hour  may  come, 
and  I  will  to-day  settle  what  each  of  you 
shall  have  after  my  death.  You  all  love 
me,  I  know ;  but  she  who  loves  me  most 
shall  have  the  best  share.' 

"  Then  each  daughter  declared  that 
she  loved  him  the  most ;  but  the  king 
said,  '  Cannot  you  express  how  dear  I  am 
to  you  ?  then  I  shall  know  what  you 
mean.'  The  eldest  said,  '  I  love  my  father 
as  much  as  the  sweetest  sugar.'  *  The 
second,  '  I  love  my  father  as  much  as  my 

*  Or,  as  the  sweetest  "  apples." 


280  The  Goosegirl  at  the  Well. 

finest  dress.'*  But  the  youngest  was 
silent.  Then  her  father  said,  '  And  thou, 
my  dearest  child,  how  much  dost  thou 
love  me?'  ' I  know  not,  father,'  she  re- 
plied, c  nor  can  I  liken  my  love  to  any- 
thing.' But  the  king  insisted  upon  her 
naming  something.  Then  she  said  at 
length,  '  The  best  food  has  no  taste  for 
me  without  salt ;  therefore,  I  love  you, 
father,  as  much  as  salt. '  When  the  king 
heard  this  he  fell  into  a  rage,  and  said, 
1  If  thou  lovest  me  as  much  as  salt,  thy 
love  shall  also  be  rewarded  with  salt. '  f 
Thereupon  he  shared  his  kingdom  be- 
tween the  two  eldest  sisters,  but  he  or- 

*  Or,  as  the  finest  "  pears." 

t  Accordingly,  she  becomes  the  "salt  of  the  earth." 


The  Goosegirl  at  the  Well.  281 

dered  a  sack  full  of  salt  to  be  strapped 
to  the  back  of  the  youngest,  and  desired 
two  servants  to  lead  her  out  into  the 
wood.*  We  all  begged  and  prayed  her 
father  to  forgive  her,"  said  the  queen, 
"but  his  anger  was  not  to  be  moved. 
Ah,  how  she  wept  when  she  had  to  leave 
us  ! — her  path  was  all  strewn  with  the 
pearls  which  dropped  from  her  eyes. 
The  king  soon  after  repented  of  his  cru- 
elty, and  sent  into  every  part  of  the 
wood  to  seek  his  daughter,  but  no  one 
could  find  her  out.  Alas  !  when  I  think 
that  the  wild  beasts  may  have  eaten  her, 
I  can  scarce  bear  my  grief ;  many  a  time 

*  This  incident  is  in  stories  older  than  Shakspeare's 
King  Lear. 


282   The  Goosegirl  at  the  Well. 

I  have  tried  to  comfort  myself  with  the 
hope  that  she  may  still  be  alive,  and 
have  hidden  herself  in  some  cavern,  or 
found  shelter  with  some  compassionate 
people.  But  only  think,  when  I  opened 
your  emerald  casket,  there  lay  a  pearl 
exactly  like  those  which  fell  from  my 
daughter's  eyes !  You  may  imagine  how 
the  sight  touched  my  heart.  But  tell 
me  how  you  came  by  that  pearl." 

Then  the  prince  told  her  how  it  was 
given  him  by  the  old  woman  in  the 
wood,  who  seemed  to  him  very  strange, 
and  must,  he  thought,  be  some  witch  ; 
he  had,  however,  neither  heard  nor  seen 
anything  of  the  queen's  daughter.  Never- 
theless, the  king  and  queen  resolved  to 
# 


The  Goosegirl  at  the  Well.  283 

go  and  seek  for  the  old  woman,  thinking 
that  where  the  pearl  had  been,  they  mnst 
at  least  hear  some  tidings  of  their 
daughter. 

The  old  woman  was  sitting  outside 
her  door  at  her  wheel,  busy  spinning ;  * 
it  was  nearly  dark,  and  a  log  of  wood 
which  was  burning  on  the  hearth  gave  a 
flickering  light.  All  at  once  there  was 
a  great  noise;  the  geese  were  coming 
home  from  the  heath,  screaming  and 
cackling  for  joy.  Soon  after  the  goose- 
girl  came  into  the  hut;  but  the  old 
woman  hardly  thanked  her,  and  only 
nodded  her  head.  The  daughter  seated 
herself,   took  her   spinning  wheel,  and 

*  Spinning  the  web  of  life. 


284  The  Goosegirl  at  the  Well. 

twisted  the  thread  as  briskly  as  a  young 
girl.  Thus  they  both  sat  for  two  whole 
hours,  and  spoke  not  a  word  to  one 
another.  At  length  something  rustled 
at  the  window,  and  two  fiery  eyes  stared 
into  the  room :  it  was  an  old  owl,  which 
shrieked  "  Whoo-hoo !  "  thrice.  The  old 
woman  only  looked  up  for  a  moment, 
and  said,  "  Daughter,  it  is  time  for  you 
to  go  out." 

The  girl  rose  from  her  stool  and  went 
out.  But  whither  is  she  gone?  Over 
the  meadows,  and  far  away,  down  into 
the  valley.  At  length  she  came  to  a 
fountain,*  by  which  stood  three  old  oak 

*  The  magical  fountain — which  discloses  nature  as 
she  is  within ;  three  oaks — the  Trinity,  ever  at,  and  as 
old  as  the  fountain. 
# 


The  Goosegirl  at  the  Well.  285 

trees.  Meanwhile  the  moon  had  risen 
over  the  hills,  round  and  large,  and  so 
bright  that  one  could  have  found  a  pin 
upon  the  ground.  She  drew  off  a  false 
skin  which  covered  her  face,  stooped 
down  to  the  fountain,  and  began  to 
wash.  When  she  had  done,  she  dipped 
the  skin  also  into  the  water,  and  then 
laid  it  on  the  meadow,  to  dry  and  bleach 
in  the  moonshine.*  But  how  was  the 
maiden  changed  !  As  soon  as  her  gray 
locks  fell  off,  her  golden  hair  streamed 
forth  like  sunbeams,  and  covered  her 
whole  form  as  with  a  mantle;  but  her 
eyes  shone  through  it  like  brilliant  stars 

*  The  moon  is  taken  as  a  symbol  of  nature. 


286  The  Goosegirl  at  the  Well. 

in  the  sky,  and  her  cheek3  glowed  with 
a  rosy-red  hue,  like  apple  blossoms. 

But  the  maiden  was  sorrowful ;  she 
sat  down,  and  wept  bitterly.  One  tear 
after  another  started  from  her  eyes,  and 
rolled  to  the  ground  between  her  long 
tresses.  She  might  long  have  sat  there, 
but  for  a  rustling  in  the  branches  of  a 
tree  hard  by.  She  sprang  up,  like  a  roe 
which  hears  the  shot  of  the  sportsman. 
The  moon  was  suddenly  hidden  behind 
a  black  cloud  ;  in  an  instant  the  maiden 
had  put  the  false  covering  on  her  face, 
and  vanished  like  a  light  blown  out  by 
the  wind. 

She  ran  back  to  the  cottage  trem- 
bling like  an  aspen  leaf.    The  old  woman 


The  Goosegirl  at  the  Well.  287 

was  standing  before  the  door,  and  the 
maiden  was  going  to  tell  her  all  that 
had  happened,  but  the  old  woman  smiled 
pleasantly  and  said,  "  I  know  it  already, 
my  child."  So  she  led  her  into  the 
room,  and  lighted  a  fresh  log  of  wood : 
she  did  not,  however,  sit  down  again  to 
the  spinning  wheel,  but  fetched  the  broom 
and  began  to  sweep  and  scour  the  floor. 
"  Mother,"  said  the  girl,  "  what  are  you 
about  ?  why  do  you  begin  work  at  such 
a  late  hour  ? "  "  Do  you  know  what 
hour  it  is  ? "  asked  the  old  woman. 
"  Not  yet  midnight,"  answered  the  maid- 
en, "but  already  past  eleven."  "Have 
you  forgotten,"  continued  the  old  woman, 
"  that  it  is  just  three  years  ago,  to-day, 

19 


288  The  Goosegirl  at  the  Well. 

that  you  came  to  me  ?     Your  time  is  up 
— we  cannot  live  together  any  longer." 

The  maiden  started,  and  said,  "  Alas, 
dear  mother,  will  you  drive  me  away  ? 
whither  shall  I  go?  I  have  no  other 
friends  or  home.  I  have  done  all  that 
you  desired,  and  you  have  always  been 
good  to  me :  do  not  send  me  away !  " 
But  the  old  woman  would  not  tell  the 
maiden  what  was  to  happen.  "  I  cannot 
stay  any  longer  here,"  *  said  she  ;  "  but 
when  I  leave  the  house,  all  must  be  neat 
and  in  order ;  therefore  do  not  hinder 
me  in  my  work.     Be  not  troubled  about 

*  The  old  woman,  in  this  story,  must  as  surely  dis- 
appear (or  die),  as  must  the  old  King  in  the  story  of 
Faithful  John  :  and  this,  too,  at  the  moment  when  the 
son  or  the  daughter  enters  upon  the  true  inheritance. 


The  Goosegirl  at  the  Well.  289 

yourself ;  you  shall  find  a  home,  and  will 
be  satisfied  with  the  present  which  I 
shall  give  you."  u  But  tell  me  what  is 
going  to  happen,"  said  the  maiden.  The 
old  woman  however  only  said,  "  Do  not 
disturb  me  at  my  work :  say  not  a  word 
more,  but  go  into  your  chamber,*  take 
the  false  covering  off  your  face,  and  put 
on  the  silken  dress  which  you  wore  when 
you  came  to  me ;  then  wait  in  your  room 
until  I  call  you." 

But  we  must  now  go  back  to  the 
king  and  queen,  whom  we  left  as  they 
were  setting  out  with  the  prince  to  seek 

*  Your  chamber,  that  is,  into  your  inner  or  spirit- 
ual life ;  and  remove  every  veil  from  your  soul :  then 
"  wait,"  &c. 


290  The  Goosegirl  at  the  Well. 

for  the  old  woman  on  the  heath.  Dur- 
ing the  night  the  prince  had  been  sepa- 
rated from  them,  and  had  to  pursue  his 
way  alone.  The  next  day  he  thought 
that  he  had  found  the  right  path,  and  he 
went  on  and  on  until  it  grew  dark :  then 
he  climbed  up  into  a  tree,*  meaning  to 
rest  there  for  the  night,  as  he  was  afraid 
that  he  might  lose  his  way. 

When  the  moon  rose,  and  shone  upon 
hill  and  dale,  the  prince  observed  some 
one  coming  down  the  hill;  he  looked, 
and  presently  saw  that  it  was  the  goose- 
girl  whom  he  had  met  at  the  old  wo- 
man's cottage.  "  Oh  ho ! "  cried  he,  "  here 

*  N.  B.  He  ascends  the  Teee.     In  all  of  these  sto- 
ries the  tree  has  a  special  significance. 


The  Goosegirl  at  the  Well.  291 

she  comes  !  "  Bat  how  was  he  astonished, 
when  she  tripped  to  the  fountain,  laid 
aside  the  skin,  and  washed  herself.  Her 
golden  hair  streamed  over  her  shoulders, 
and  he  saw  how  beautiful  she  was.*  He 
hardly  dared  to  breathe,  but  stretched 
out  his  head  between  the  branches  as  far 
as  he  could,  and  gazed  on  her  with  a 
fixed  look.  Either  he  leaned  forward  too 
far,  or  from  some  other  cause,  suddenly 
the  branch  cracked,  and  in  the  same 
instant  she  glided  into  the  false  skin, 
started  off  like  a  roe,  and  just  as  the 
moon  was  hidden  by  a  cloud  she  van- 
ished from  his  sight. 

*  This  is  the  beauty  of  nature  as  she  is,  truly,  in  the 
spirit,  but  not  as  she  appears  to  the  senses. 


292   The  Goosegirl  at  the  Well. 

Scarcely  had  she  disappeared,  when 
the  prince  got  down  from  the  tree  and 
hastened  after  her.  He  had  not  gone 
far,  when  he  saw  in  the  twilight  two  per- 
sons wandering  over  the  meadow.  It  was 
the  king  and  queen,  who  had  spied  from 
afar  off  the  light  in  the  old  woman's  cot- 
tage, and  were  hastening  toward  it.  Then 
the  prince  told  them  what  wonderful 
things  he  had  seen  at  the  fountain,  and 
they  had  no  doubt  that  the  maiden  was 
their  lost  daughter;  so  they  jogged  on, 
full  of  joy,  and  soon  came  to  the  cottage. 
The  geese  were  sitting  in  a  ring,*  with 
their  heads  under  their  wings,  fast  asleep, 

*Like  the  little  toads  around  their  mother  in  the 
story  of  Dummling. 


# 

The  Goosegirl  at  the  Well.  293 

and  not  one  of  them  stirred.  The  king 
and  queen  peeped  in  at  the  window,  and 
there  sat  the  old  woman,  spinning ;  she 
nodded  her  head  as  the  wheel  went 
round,  but  did  not  turn.  All  was  neat 
and  clean  in  the  room,  just  as  if  the  little 
men  of  the  mist  lived  there,  who  carry 
no  dust  on  their  feet ;  but  their  daughter 
was  not  to  be  seen. 

They  gazed  for  some  time,  and  at 
length  plucked  up  courage  and  tapped 
gently  at  the  casement.  The  old  woman 
seemed  as  if  she  had  expected  them :  she 
rose  up,  and  said  in  a  friendly  voice, 
"  Come  in !  I  know  you  already."  When 
they  entered  the  cottage,  the  old  woman 
said,  "  You  might  have  spared  yourselves 


294  The  Goosegirl  at  the  Well. 

this  long  journey,  if  you  had  not  cruelly 
driven  away  your  chDd,  who  is  so  good 
and  lovable.  ISTo  harm  has,  however, 
come  to  her ;  these  three  years  long  she 
has  had  to  tend  my  geese,  but  she  has 
learnt  nothing  bad,  and  has  kept  her 
heart  pure.  But  you  have  been  punished 
enough  by  the  grief  you  have  suffered." 
And  so  saying  she  went  to  the  little 
chamber  and  cried,  "  Come  out,  my  dar- 
ling child  !  "  Then  the  door  opened,  and 
the  king's  daughter  stepped  forth  in  her 
silken  dress,  with  her  golden  hair  and 
glancing  eyes,  and  she  looked  in  truth 
like  an  angel. 

Then  she  ran  to  her  father  and 
mother,  fell  upon  their  neck  and  kissed 
# 


The  Goosegirl  at  the  Well.  295 

them ;  *  and  they  all  wept  for  very  joy — 
they  could  not  help  it.  The  young  prince 
stood  near  them,  and  when  the  maiden 
looked  at  him  her  cheeks  grew  as  red  as 
a  moss-rose,  but  she  knew  not  why. 

The  king  said,  "  My  dear  child,  I  have 
given  away  my  whole  kingdom:  what 
can  I  give  you  \  "  "  She  wants  nothing," 
said  the  old  woman ;  "  I  make  her  a  pres- 
ent of  the  tears  which  she  has  wept  for 
you ;  they  are  real  pearls,  more  beautiful 
than  ever  were  found  in  the  sea,  and  are 
worth  more  than  your  whole  kingdom  ;  f 
and,  as  a  reward  for  her  services,  I  give 

*  Thus  does  the  father  meet  the  returning  prodigal 
son. 

t  A  feeling  heart,  aid  the  endowments  of  nature,  are 
worth  more  than  kingdoms. 
# 


<# 

296  The  Goosegirl  at  the  Well. 

her  my  cottage."  As  the  old  woman 
finished  speaking  she  vanished  from  their 
sight.  The  walls  shook  and  rattled  a 
little,  and  when  they  looked  round,  the 
cottage  was  changed  into  a  magnificent 
palace.  A  royal  table  was  spread  with 
choice  viands,  and  servants  were  running 
about  hither  and  thither. 

The  story  goes  no  further ;  for  my 
grandmother,  who  told  it  to  me,  and 
whose  memory  was  weak,  had  forgotten 
the  rest.*  I  have  always  had  a  notion 
that  the  beautiful  daughter  of  the  king 
married  the  prince,  and-  that  they  staid 

*  She  had  not  seen  "  the  last  chamber  at  the  end  of 
the  long  corridor,"  and  chose  to  tell  only  so  much  of  life 
as  she  had  seen. 


The  Goosegirl  at  the  Well.  297 

in  the  palace,  and  lived  there  happily 
together  until  they  died.  Whether  the 
old  woman's  snow-white  geese  were  real 
maidens,  and  whether  they  now  took 
their  human  forms,  and  remained  as  ser- 
vants to  the  young  queen,  is  more  than  I 
can  say  positively,  but  I  have  a  stroDg 
suspicion  that  it  was  so.  Thus  much  is 
certainly  true,  that  the  old  woman  was 
no  witch ;  very  probably,  too,  it  was  she 
who  had  bestowed  the  gift  of  weeping 
pearls,  instead  of  tears,  on  the  king's 
daughter  at  her  birth.  Such  things,  un- 
luckily, do  not  come  to  pass  nowadays, 
or  else  poor  folks  would  soon  grow 
rich. 


EKRA T A 


Page  10,  line  6,  for  fasthohi,   read  foothold. 


«     32, 

"     7, 

"     into, 

unto. 

"     38, 

«  14, 

"     ear??/,            " 

easy. 

"     42, 

"     1, 

"     Primarina, " 

Primavera. 

«     53, 

"     2, 

"     house,            " 

home. 

«     55, 

"  19, 

omit  the  word,  iw. 

"     56, 

"     2, 

refer  to  Wisdom, 

vii,  14. 

